The Lucky One
by PastArmyGirl32
Summary: So many needless deaths. So many disturbing nightmares. Loss and numbness. What will lead to Bella's inevitable breakdown and will she be able to survive it enough to become who she was before or will it make her stronger? All human. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is my first shot at fanfic. I've had this in my head for a bit and just wanted to see where it could possibly lead. ...**

**Well here's Chapter One, again. I went back and did some rewriting, hopefully it will be to your liking. I hope there will be some interest in Bella being the soldier instead of Edward/Jasper etc. It really is different for a woman to be in this type of situation and causes different issues for them mentally, emotionally and physically. If people enjoy, I'll be able to continue telling her story. **

**We all know who these characters belong to. Thanks to you S.M.!**

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**Somewhere in Hell... the desert**

We had just finished up with our chow which almost always seems to be unchanged and began our journey to our inconsequential abode. I'm not sure why the Army thinks they are saving money by contracting out our food services to local civilians. The only thing it does to us is upset our already jaded stomachs. It's hard enough to not always second guess what they actually put into your food. I always tried to teach my son to not judge people based on where they're from or what they look like but I find myself doing this while I'm here. We're fighting what could be called an unseen enemy since they've never once tried to come close enough for us to actually put faces to their often flimsy attacks. They wait until we're asleep and most of the time our concern is for nothing. Although, when we cross the threshold over to their side of the wire, we are in immediate danger from them. I have to continually remind myself that these people aren't all the same. No matter who they are they are all human and should be treated as such. They aren't all sick and sadistic fucks who would rather kill us than let us help them. Anyway, if they wanted to take us out we were obviously waiting and willing since every one of us in the camp frequented the dining hall multiple times daily. All they had to do was slip something into chow and none of us would survive. So every morning and every night I not only pray for some sort of reprieve from blood and death but I also pray that I can go through my day without judging someone so harshly just because they are one of them. Some days my earnest prayers are answered and some days they're not. Today was one of those days where my prayers were worth more than just my faltering breath falling on deaf ears.

It was an odd day today to say the least. One of those that you just know was too good for there not to be the existence of something bad lurking around the corner. It had been silent today. Too silent. No attacks here or on any of our personnel outside of the perimeter. I was actually able to just hang out on my bunk most of the day answering letters to my family that I hadn't been able to get to recently. My side of the bunk was nothing compared to my bed at home but at least I had a few comforts around. Jacob had sent my quilt that my grandmother had made for me before she passed while I was still in high school. It was ratty and had holes throughout it but it brought a peace to me that is so hard to find during the night while I've been here. It was quite beautiful when it had first been made with all of the blues, violets and yellows. It spoke volumes of who I was during those years. Just a girl who was trying to get through everyday life unseen. To say that I was not the popular kid would be a dire understatement. I understood it, though, I mean who would want to be friends with someone who fumbled her way through the school day and couldn't keep the unsightly blush off of her pale cheeks, let alone remain standing on her own two feet for less than fifty percent of the entire day? I certainly wouldn't, but that didn't mean that it hurt me any less. I guess all of that was why I wanted a change while I was in college. I wanted to be someone new, someone who could hold her head high and keep her skin color in check. I just didn't know I would find my inner strength by joing the Army. I was at least able to earn a degree before I was sent here to hopefully not die. I figure once my time is up I'll be able to put that English Literature degree to good use by maybe writing about my time here at war. Who knows? People probably don't want to hear the truth about this place anyway. It's always easier to hide and think that what our journalistic outlets are saying is truth. It's easier to think that when the President said he was pulling out the troops from overseas that it would be truth. Unfortunately, even the President isn't as truthful as we would all like to believe.

I still couldn't shake that feeling of dread and unease. It had actually settled quite ladenly into my stomach or that could have just been that shit they call chow. I slowly made my way back not realizing that I had stood in the same spot for who knows how long just staring up at the night sky. Once I got outside of our door I realized that Captain Pentley was crouched down to the right of the building. I didn't know if I should bother her or not as she seemed genuinely lost in thought. I decided to check on her to make sure she was coping okay.

"Whatcha' doing out here all by yourself at this time of the night, missy? You know it's not safe out here for a beautiful lady like yourself with all of those blood suckers who are slinking around here just waiting to pounce." I asked her in my most inhuman voice as possible just trying to get some sort of rise out of her.

As I continued waiting for her to talk or to move or something, I could tell that what I had said hadn't worked. It was a long running joke about vampires and werewolves prowling our perimeter and how lucky we'd be if they were actually on our side in all of this. I crouched down beside her and gave her a half arm hug and realized that she had been crying. Now this isn't out of the ordinary for us. We all cry, it just depends on when the loneliness and seriousness of our situations strike us. Even the men have been known to let a few tears be shed but of course they'd never admit to it in public, especially not in front of their 'manly man' friends.

After a few minutes she answered, "It's just, don't you feel it? Something's off, I don't know what it is, something is going to happen. I just can't deal with the thought of losing anyone else."

I drank in her admission and knew she was right. I picked her up off of the ground and told her that we had to be strong. Not only for ourselves but for the other two women who were already on their bunks awaiting our late arrival.

"You and I will talk about it later. We just need to go in here and act as if everything is fine. We can't let them know what we're feeling." I said before we took off walking.

In my head I knew that we were no where close to fine. I don't think we would ever be that close again. We climbed into our bunks with no one knowing any better about the conversation we had just had outside.

"Okay, who's up for the question this time?" I asked as the four of us girls sat around on our dusty, mildewed bunks for our evening chat.

There were only four of us women here with our Company and they stuck us in a tiny concrete building of sorts. It looked like the buildings had been here since Jesus had graced the earth. We all had our own bunks with one bed on the bottom and one above. When we first arrived we actually drew straws to see who would have to climb the death trap to go to sleep at night. That's before we realized that we wouldn't be getting much sleep at all. The "ladder" to the top bunk actually was being held together by PVC pipe and duct tape. Before I got here I had no idea and all the things that you could fix up with just duct tape. It's truly amazing, really. I had actually won a bottom bunk which of course was strange knowing how bad my luck was. If only they had known how clumsy I was to begin with, they never would have made me draw a straw. I would have automatically gotten a bottom bunk. Strewn in between our beds were the ominous green foot lockers that housed all of our worldly goods that we were allowed to bring over with us. Or if you were like Captain Pentley, it held everything that your family could fit in a care box that they sent twice a month.

Thank God for little miracles. Her kids kept us stocked up in tampons, pads, lotion, baby wipes and hard candy. Oh, and you can't forget the magazines. Her teenage daughter, Tess, knew exactly the kind we liked. The one's that made you feel like you were still a woman even though some weeks you may not see a shower and your hair is so greasy you could probably fry an egg on it out in the heat of day. There sure was never a comfortable way of having that time of the month in a place where sand was sure to find its way into your body in whatever way that it could, hence the baby wipes. It's not like we had the option of having an enclosed shitter. It was just a hole in the ground with plywood haphazardly placed around it. Those wipes also worked for a shower of sorts when we were unable to get one the right way from the nearby Quartermaster Company.

We'd been doing this talk before we went to sleep for so long that it just seemed to make it feel more like home, somewhat like we were all naturally friends before we had been thrown together in this sandy, desolate location. We all came from different Army Reserve Units back home. I was the only one from Washington State and Schoonover loved to give me hell for it. Of course she was blessed from being from a sunny state. After calling me Powder for the first two months of being here, since I was so damn pale, they all decided to ask for sunscreen in their letters home for their poor bunk mate who couldn't go through one day in this hot as hell climate without burning one part of her body. So inside my foot locker laid 15 bottles of sunscreen that I hadn't touched yet. All the while my other girls were sporting lovely farmer's tans but at least they looked sun kissed and not beet red like me. As hard as we all were on one another, it's really troublesome to imagine a time in my life where these girls, my sisters, weren't in it.

"Well it sure as hell isn't me!" Sergeant Schoonover yelled continuing our first fight of the night.

It was always like this. Nobody wanted to take the helm of the ship when it came to asking the dreaded question but as soon as it was put out there, they were all over it. We always tried to stay away from the serious stuff. It was depressing enough to not be able to walk out of our "cottage" as we called it without being harassed or scared to death. Hell, you couldn't even go to the bathroom without having to carry your weapon with you. That makes for a difficult balancing act around the hole.

We all glanced over to Private Shannon. She was the quiet one in the group of female soldiers. Recently recruited and hastily married pretty much summed her up. Private Shannon reminded me of myself when I was in high school, long before I broke out of my shell. She barely opened her mouth ever to speak to anyone but she was one hell of a medic and she also rotated in as an emergency room tech when she was needed. That's what had brought her to us initially. Being cherry picked for a certain unit is sometimes a good thing because that means that your work speaks for itself, but being cherry picked to work in a unit of all men had to be the worst odds ever.

Trying to break through the barriers of working with the opposite sex here was hard. Back home the unit was split pretty evenly between men and women. Of course there were some who thought they were gods because they had a dick but there were some women who thought they owned the world just because they could bat their eyelashes and make boys melt. Take those few out of the equation and you have a fairly melded, quite cohesive team on your hands. The men who were used to working only with other men truly didn't want to give you a chance unless you were naked while working. These guys belonged to an Infantry Unit and someone up at Big Army decided that they needed some sort of medical staff available to them. All four of us women were brilliant in our work. That's how we got where we were. Three of us being medics and one nurse, we had our work cut out for us. It took us four months into our tour before the others let us take lead on things. One guy even decided he would rather die than let me work on his wound. Being that he was shot in the shoulder while out on patrol he really had no choice in the matter. A tampon stuck in a gunshot wound actually works in stopping or slowing the rate of blood flow. We finally taught some of the male medics that tampons do save lives. Not that we ever doubted that idea.

Every night someone different would pose a question for our topic of our chat. Now that I think about how we came about doing this together I realize the question/answer session was probably just being used as a coping mechanism of some sort. We'd seen too much here by this point that would be forever burnt and embedded into our brains and memories. But hey, we're doing something that most mothers and women in general can't say they've ever done. My son even had his very own shirt that said "My Mom Wears Combat Boots". It was too cute I couldn't help getting it for him.

Even though we were surrounded by men, it was really easy to slip back into the joys of being female when you were engulfed by these three other amazingly strong women. I'd say their strongest suits were their mouths but couldn't that be said about most women in general no matter where they were? We could have easily slipped into the dream world that had us still in college in our dorms, at a bar with strong drinks or in sand where the scent of death and destruction wafted through our senses.

Taking in our surroundings at the moment was kind of stupid. It always seemed to lead to a sort of depression that blanketed and draped over everything and everyone I was near. That's why I never really liked to dwell on where we were and what the hell we were doing, but looking at us tonight was definitely heartbreaking. I always tried to stay positive about what we were getting accomplished just by being here in this foreign land. We were beyond the shadow of a doubt doing great things. Schools were being built where not only boys could go but also little girls. To see the joy in their unaware eyes was something that I will always remember. The hugs and well wishes from these children when we visited their schools were worth more than anything I could imagine outside of the joy from seeing my child. We were able to supply them with every thing that they need to keep the school running smoothly. Townspeople were actually becoming more healthy because of teams of medical staff were able to give them inoculations and medication if they were sick. Again though, I knew that logically I didn't want to be here but who the hell did. That feeling just didn't reside within the people with ovaries here. None of the men truly wanted to be here either. Most of them, even as pig headed and sexist as they were, had families at home that they wanted to see again. I also knew that so many soldiers would have died if it weren't for me, Isabella Marie Black. Who would have thought I would have come this far from the Bella Swan of ten years ago? The silly little girl who passed out by the sight of blood in Biology class, the one who tripped over the half court line in gym class, which I still believe that it jumped up and tripped me. It's amazing how things truly change.

All three women sitting with me had such large, vicious, bluish purple looking circles under their eyes. I knew that I didn't physically sleep well at night due to the nightmares that plagued my short bouts of sleep but you could see the way that everything around us tormented them in their dreams, too. They say that as women we aren't allowed to be in combat. Whether it was because of health and sanitation issues that they worried about or some other stupid ass, 1940's idea of what women were supposed to be doing. Really though, what the hell do they think we are doing now as medics? We are front line! In the thick of all this bullshit, cleaning up the wounded and the dead for what? Did no one ever realize this? If it was really that big of a concern they should have just kept us on the home front doing administrative duties, but I guess that would never have worked out perfectly either.

I think our real sleeping issues stemmed from fear of what could happen to us when it was dark and the sky was only lit by the vast array of stars that surrounded us on all sides. As much as I hated this place, it in fact was beautiful on a clear night. The angels couldn't have painted a more beautiful picture than the desert sky painted with millions of white, twinkling stars. Of course we were scared of the veiled attacks on our camp, the yelling and screaming in different languages floating out of the wind from far off and the predators that lurked just beyond our bunks. Even though most of the time the rockets never made it within our area, the constant sounds of explosions seemed to make your heart beat in a different rhythm. It was never something I wanted to be used to. The predators that remained just beyond our bunks would haunt me until the day I die. The men that we served with didn't and couldn't understand why we were there. I know that I was not the only one that had something happen to them but it was something that we never discussed. I could handle the verbal lashing that they threw at us on a daily basis, but the physical part of the threats and the actions that arose from those threats were something that no woman should ever have to deal with. Some of these men only viewed us for one specific thing and that was a too recent memory for me to delve into right now.

It was then that these thoughts came full circle when Private Shannon's question pulled me from my self induced funk and onto my knees in laughter. I truly believe I haven't laughed this hard since I left my little man back home. Maybe months before that even. It wasn't necessarily the question itself that made me laugh the most. It was the little Private it came from who shied away whenever the dirty word "sex" was mentioned. Unfortunately we are all red blooded, American females who honestly were probably hornier than most seventeen year old, gangly high school boys with pimples. Sex generally was mentioned on a nightly basis. It's a damn shame that we couldn't bring anything with us to help us calm down on that front. BOB probably would have been through about ten sets of batteries by now.

"Do you all ever have to fake an orgasm during sex?" Private Shannon looked down at the ground as the question practically had to be dragged off of her tongue.

It almost looked as if the question had left a bad taste in her mouth by the way her face scrunched up into something I had never seen before on her porcelain like features. She absolutely was beautiful. Private Shannon had that look about her. She was like a child at times being naive about the world and other times she was the strongest woman I had ever met. She could take control of an operating room like no other.

We were all dazed and no one could seem to move a muscle. I couldn't believe that just came out of her mouth! It seemed the longer we were all around one another the more comfortable and open we became. That's what happens in war, I guess. As long as we didn't start having to take a buddy to the bathroom I'd be just fine. It was hard enough with the facilities we had, but having a conversation while doing that would be a tad too much buddy-buddy for me. I could feel myself blushing at the thought. I tried to calm my face down so Sergeant Schoonover wouldn't think it was about the damn question still hanging in the thickening air. She'd never leave me alone after that one. I slipped up one time and blushed in front of her before and I've barely lived it down. As a kid and even in college I couldn't help when it occurred. It just always seemed to happen but now after everything I've been through with marrying Jake and giving birth to Jack, even with the Army, it doesn't occur as often. Thank God for that!

She tried to backtrack her question then, "I, I, I, mean do you, oh, I don't know, forget I ever asked. It was a stupid topic anyway."

It was if this was the first time I had ever truthfully seen her in all of her deer caught in the headlights glory. She was physically trembling and I don't know if it was fear or embarrassment. With her it could have been both. If I had asked that question to the group, I definitely would have been afraid of their answers, too.

"No, no, no! You can't take it back, Shannon!" Captain Pentley said barely containing her full on, from the stomach, guffaw.

We all sat around staring a bit when she finally broke down and told us the dirty but hilariously funny details about her sex life or lack there of. She had never had an orgasm during the act of sex itself and had never even had one with her new husband. That shocked the hell out of me. The least he could do was give her a little finger action or something. Who the hell did she marry and why? Even if they had nothing else in common, they could have at least been sexually compatible.

The girls all laughed until we about cried and then Sergeant Schoonover, my brilliant, Hawaiian and sexuality queen gave her the low down on what she had to do to get herself off during sex with her husband. Schoonover had a way with descriptive words and actions while explaining anything pertaining to sex.

"You see Private Shannon, if you place your ass like this, over top of him and try fucking him this way, it gives you a great opening to either put his digits on your clit or if he is too stupid to take the hint, you can take care of it yourself." Schoonover bent over Pentley to show her the exact placement while the rest of us just looked at her in horror.

"Seriously, a little rub the nub action and you'll be coming so hard he won't know what hit him. You'll be milking the hell out of his cock and he'll think he struck fucking gold!" Schoonover said as she moved off of Pentley's lap and back onto her own bunk.

I'll never know how she does it. Even that was a little too much description for me. Thank heavens the one great thing about being married to my best friend is all the years of perfecting the act of sex. That's one thing Jacob and I had down to an art. He always made sure I came at least once before even concentrating on his release. Thank fucking God.

Private Shannon looked absolutely stark white after Schoonover finished speaking. We all just carried on laughing like a bunch of school girls, which we clearly were not with our M-16s and 9 Millimeters lying around our feet.

That's when we heard it, long before we knew what hit us. The alarm was blaring its sound deep into the night. I jumped up and hit the side of my head on that damned wall locker behind me while we were trying to don the rest of our equipment so that we were all in full battle rattle. I grabbed my extra med kit and threw Captain Pentley hers because I had a feeling we would need it tonight. We all continued and jerked our weapons off of the sandy ground. I glanced at Pentley to see her reaction to the alarms. Thinking about our conversation earlier had me teetering over the edge. She gave me a swift head nod agreeing to how I was feeling.

If this was seriously happening, we were completely screwed. Half of our Company was out in the bordering town helping another Medical Company conduct civilian related health missions and they were not due back inside the boundary walls until the following morning. What the fuck were we going to do, I silently asked myself. I started panicking. I've never panicked. I couldn't catch a breath and started violently shaking. The guys couldn't see this. They already thought we were the sand and dirt they knocked off their boots nightly. What the hell would they think if they saw the female NCOIC of the combat medics freaking out in her doorway?

I slowly pulled it together and we all slipped out of our sleeping area and that's when it hit. All around us, explosion after explosion rang into the air. One hit our makeshift hospital which was so close to where I was standing that I went flying back towards a building and landed too hard against it for my already war riddled body and mind to handle.

"Oh Fuck!" I heard Captain Pentley scream as she took in our surroundings. People were everywhere and it was total chaos. The men were running out in their boxers wiping sleep from their eyes. Hell most of them didn't have boots on there feet let alone be lucky enough to have a weapon on them. Bright lights and loud screaming brought my rambling brain to a screeching halt and reminded me of where we were.

I tried to stand up but the fall from the blast made my already weary legs unsteady. I looked around to make sure that all my girls were alright and I saw Captain Pentley crawling slowly towards me to make sure that I was coherent. I couldn't hear what she was saying through all the ringing behind my ears, but I knew she was trying to talk to me. I just started shaking my head at her not knowing what question I was answering and trying to get that fucking ringing to cease.

It was all happening in slow motion, but before I could get any words out Captain Pentley was being grabbed from behind by what looked to be a civilian and he was dragging her away by her freshly washed hair. She hadn't even had time to put it back into the customary bun that we all wore. I was trying to budge to get up to help her, to do anything for her, but they were already gone before I could even stand on my own two feet.

I felt so disoriented. I really couldn't make out left or right or even if someone was saying my name. It felt like little specks of bright, white light were being directed to my brain as I was discerning one blood curdling scream from another.

Where did they take Captain Pentley? I couldn't figure out where the rest of my girls were. I was alone and I was frozen. Shit. We were in fact being beaten by the monsters who finally struck gold with their ongoing explosions tonight. Pentley and I were right to be feeling anxious, but I would never have expected something this ghastly.

"We're being seriously attacked," that's all that would come out of my mouth and it was in such a low whisper that I don't think anyone could have heard me even if they wanted to. The only thought that came with it was that these assholes were killing and slaughtering everyone around and they were in our camp.

Our home.

Our refuge.

Fuck.

Okay. I can do this. What was I taught? This isn't the first time I've seen this type of carnage. I'm a medic for Christ's sake! I deal with blood, death and everything in between on a daily basis. Why the hell can't I begin to make my feet move now? I felt like my brain and my head were no longer connected to my body. Nothing was working.

I was trying and concentrating so intently on getting my left boot in front of my right boot, but realized too late that someone or something was standing by my building. They were right by my hiding place watching every move I made. I jumped around and he didn't dare move a muscle. He just stared at my eyes. It was really becoming unnerving and I didn't know whether or not to shoot him or just to look away from the intensity of being under his stare. I didn't want to be dragged off like Captain Pentley had been. If he was going to try and make me go with him I would unload my rounds on his body and hopefully into him first.

I could feel my hands quivering and my breathing was becoming erratic. I tried to hold my weapon up, but the weight of it was unbearable on my arms. I couldn't feel my feet again because they were deadened and I couldn't make them move. I was frozen in the same spot again and the crazy looking man just continued to stare straight through me. I tasted a salty tear as they began dripping down my face with such force that my gear was becoming drenched rapidly. I hadn't even realized I had begun crying until they were hitting my mouth in hurried succession.

I was going to die. I would never see my husband or my beautiful child again. I was sincerely going to die because I had signed another contract just to fucking piss my husband off since he was being such a dip shit about the whole ordeal. As I continued with my dying tirade in my head, my world began to disappear and complete and empty darkness clouded my sight.

**Let me know what you think whether you hate it or love it! Maybe even just like it. Give it a chance because Bella has to go through some changes before Edward enters the picture. I plan on the whole group of Cullens to make appearances throughout the story but everyone will remain human! I just like the thought of them all being human and dealing with those emotions. Leave me something and please don't make me beg! I will if I have to but really it's not very pretty.**

**Jen**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is the second part to what's happened to Bella. Hope it answers some more questions. **

**Again we know who owns this and makes all the money for it. I appreciate getting to play with the characters! See you at the end!**

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**Chapter 2**

**Still in the desert...**

I could smell it before my eyes could wholly open and to fully register my own personal misery. It was so real and I could only pray that I was still coming out of the darkest state of my nightmare that I had been in. All had been okay when the blackness took over but then the noises, the screams, and then silence that I continued to hear haunted me all the same. I can handle the dark, but it's when there are voices without faces that you can't place and the knowledge that they could do anything they wanted to you while you lay unconscious, well that was my breaking point.

The metallic smell was of blood, a lot of blood and it was everywhere. Some people say that blood itself doesn't have a distinct smell but I have to disagree passionately. From childhood for me it has always smelled metallic. Not really like a piece of metal but more like a penny. That's the only way I can describe it for someone to understand. I used to even pass out from the smell; I'm still not sure what convinced me to become an Army Medic. Yeah I do, I can't lie. It was that hefty bonus they waved in front of my face and the promise of not being deployed with the Reserves during a time that we weren't at war. If I had only known that war was only a couple years away, it would changed things immensely.

I definitely should have listened to Charlie and Renee. I may have been an adult, but at the time that I signed my second contract I wasn't acting as such. I'd say I had made my way back to about sixteen years old as I sat and pounded my fists on the dinner table one Sunday night like a petulant child who wasn't getting that all important shiny, new toy that they wanted. in any case, I wouldn't be here right now not knowing if I was going to go home and walk off a plane of my own cognizance or if I would be carried off in my own casket, only if I had shut my mouth for a minute and listened to Jacob and not signed another contract. He was so pissed at me about the whole ordeal, but I had to go and sign it after he tried to tell me that as the woman of the house it wasn't my place to serve my country. Basically every thing I had done up until then had been done in vain and he held no pride to what I had accomplished. I told him to fuck off and essentially stuck my tongue out at him, such a mature action, and went and signed my new six year contract. Look at me now one year in on that contract and staring at a long, painful and without doubt an incredibly bloody death in my near future.

I knew if I could smell the blood so strongly that the source had to be close. Immeasurably too close to me. Burnt or burning flesh is a completely different story, though. That's a smell that you will never put out of your mind after you come into contact with it for the first time in your life. It is an action that I wish had never happened to me, but as luck would have it my first experience with it still haunted my dreams. It had only been two weeks since we had been in country and one of our convoys struck an IED that in reality looked like a rock. They told us in all those classes we took before arriving that we could run into these types of IED explosives, I just never thought it would not stand out along the side of the rode. I am a believer now. I was up in front driving Captain Pentley's Humvee and the rocking explosion was towards the back of our convoy line. The two guys weren't from our Company, but they had been convoying with us and about twenty members from their group.

The poor, unsuspecting men didn't have a chance in hell to make it out of their burnt out vehicle and even if they had climbed out of the crumbled mess, they wouldn't have survived the night, probably not even an hour. The driver was undistinguishable by the time I got to the Humvee. You wouldn't have even been able to tell he was an actual man that had been sitting there probably talking about the weather or fucking for that matter just a few minutes or seconds before the explosion. The IED had been on his side, obviously, because of the extensive detonation damage done to his side of the vehicle. We did end up finding a part of that unfortunate soldier, resting on the far side of the road when the other members of the convoy were running perimeter for us. All the while Captain Pentley and I were trying to save them. It was one of those times where it was so shocking that the bodies didn't look real. They looked like props created for a movie. I'll never understand the shock value when something like this happens, but I'm very thankful for it otherwise, I'm pretty sure that the MRE I had just eaten not two hours before would have shown itself again in it's entirety. The other guy didn't die instantly regrettably. I could hear his heart wrenching screams as I tried to make my way to them with the stark white Captain at my side. She may have been a nurse in the civilian world, but this was by far the worst thing we both had ever seen and sadly, heard. By the time we reached them he heart had been silenced for the last time. You would think that bodies just burnt up when they begin, but that's not actually the truth. Your skin will char initially, but then your fat will melt around you, in turn leading to your muscle cooking itself kind of like meat in the oven. And finally after that is all said it done it will eventually char completely and all that is left is the smell and possibly your bones, but that is never a for sure thing depending on how hot the fire that has consumed your body has become.

Laying here on the ground still I realize that I could recognize the smell of burning flesh, but it didn't seem to be close by. In our hospital that we worked in when we were inside the perimeter, the metallic smell was always around because you couldn't ever get it fully cleaned before the next bleeding or severely wounded soldier would take their turn at life or death. Around there though, it was mainly death, even though, there were some miraculous recoveries that were brought into the hospital. Generally the men and women that could be saved would be patched up just enough to get there condition to where they could survive on a flight into Germany. They'd be fixed up some more in Germany and brought up to stable condition and then were flown to the states for the rest of their recovery either in Washington, D.C. at Walter Reed or in Texas at Fort Hood.

One man comes to mind because his life and recovery was a miracle in and by itself. He had lost three of his limbs, two arms and a leg, in a Humvee accident and died on me twice before I could even get him to the OR in our hospital at Camp. While there, he died again on the table and luckily was brought back. No one began to believe that he could possibly survive and hour, but he made it through the night. When Captain Pentley came through the door the next morning after her shift, she informed us that he would definitely be getting onto a flight to Germany within the next several hours. We received a letter from him two weeks ago thanking us for what we had done to help him. He was currently recovering at Walter Reed with his wife and children by his side.

The fear that I now felt from my toes to the disheveled hair on my head paralyzed me completely. I didn't want to open my eyes to see where all of these horrifying smells in the air were wafting in from. I know it's too close to where I was currently laying, though.

As I rest here in a semi catatonic state, I know that I need to get up and do something, anything. I need to save those that I can and find my girls. I realize all of this, but here I lay stationary on the ground like it is my only lifeline. Thoughts of Jack ran through my mind as I tried to find some sliver of my inner strength that I needed to rely on. It was all I had at the moment. Jack has dark hair just like his daddy; I finally talked Jake into getting it cut. He had my chocolate eyes, however with eyelashes to kill for. He even actually looked like he had a tan all year round, which was funny looking next to my powdery, translucent skin. All in all he was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and was the best thing to ever happen in my short life. I carry a picture of him, his Kindergarten mug shot at all times in my flak jacket just to remind me of what I have to make it home to. The picture is bent and frayed around the edges, but he is still beautiful. Gently pulling the corner of my vest back I see my handsome little man smirking back at me and I find the strength to stand up and carry on.

Okay, now that my semi emotional break down is over I need some sort of a mental checklist before I can make my big move. I know that there are fifty total soldiers in my Company. There are four girls and forty-six men. Twenty-five of us are currently in the next town. Now I wonder if anyone even had the time or mental capacity to radio them to make them aware of what was happening back here. I wonder if they could even help us or if we were all too far gone. I couldn't keep thinking like that and wondering about everything. I had to take action and get out of here breathing and back home to my family. I needed to get as many people from here back home alive to their families. I had to make them safe; this was something I could not fail to do. I'd failed at many things in life, but this wasn't going to be one of them to add to my ever growing list.

I have my 9 Mil still attached to my leg and my clip is still full. I can't believe I didn't shoot the dirty bastard who just stared at me so intently. I can't believe I froze, again. Of all times for good old Bella to join me and come back into my life, it just had to be now when I didn't need her help to fuck this all up. I knew when I enlisted in the Army it went against everything that I was, but I was tired of just being shy, blushing and clumsy Bella. I wanted to be something more. I wanted to give back to something that I thought was bigger than me and here I am almost giving my life to a cause that I didn't know if I even believed in anymore. I should have just joined the damn Peace Corp or volunteered at the homeless shelter down the street from my apartment. Now it wasn't just about the cause, though. It's about all of these individuals that I have lived with for the past 6 months whether they wronged me or not, that mattered.

I know I have four extra clips on my belt, my flak is on and I don't think I myself am physically hurt anywhere. Hell I could be bleeding to death and I don't think I'd be feeling it at this very moment. Everything was still just so numb. I do know it's not my blood that I smell. Speaking of which, I think my med bag is still on my back, so I should be ready to get up and go. But where do I go? Question of the day Bella! Think about it, what the hell happened to me after that creepy man was here? I think I blacked out but for how damn long? Why can't I hear anyone anymore? Where are they? So many questions remain unanswered in my mind, but I can't seem to convince my body to get up and get the answers myself.

Shit.

I finally remember Karen, Captain Pentley, being dragged away by the man in rags and I remember the blood curdling screams, but where are those screams now. It's too still for them to be around and too damn quiet.

Alright on the count of five I'm opening my eyes. I'm not a chicken shit. I am a soldier in the United States Army and my friends have been attacked and possibly killed. That's a positive face. I can do this. Not such a positive fact.

One, two, three, oh hell who am I kidding? Five!

I open my tear stained eyes and look around until I find the source of the metallic smell. Oh my God. How could this be fucking happening? I think I'm going to fucking puke.

"Oh Schoonover, what the hell did they do to you?", I ask the corpse as I expelled everything in my stomach on the dirty wall of the building beside me.

She never answered and I didn't for once expect her to. Her throat was slit from ear to ear and her head was barely hanging on as she had just been thrown callously across the ground. I don't know what they could have used to do this to her and why. There's no one else around this area that I can see so I gently start to cover her body up with a ripped up blanket that has found its way outside of our room all the while trying to lose my shit again. She doesn't deserve to be left alone like this. No one deserves to be left alone. I've got to find someone else and hopefully they will still be breathing at least. I start to quietly sob as nothing is coming out. There's a lump in my throat the size of California and I'm not even sure if I can breathe still. Wiping my eyes on my blood stained uniform sleeve I gradually begin making out my grand plan that's probably going to get me killed or worse. There are worse things than being killed like tortured, raped multiple times and then possibly killed.

I can run or I can low crawl across the sandy terrain. I'm going to low crawl across the way just in case those heartless bastards are still lurking around here. I silently chuckled to myself as I thought back to our heroes, the vamps and werewolves. If only they were here now to help me. I really must be losing my grip on reality if this is where my mind is currently.

"Why couldn't I have worked on this skill more? I guess I never thought I would be doing this further than what I did in Basic Training. Stupid, stupid, stupid Bella," I berate myself.

Eventually I make it over to the guy's portion of the sleeping arrangements. All of the buildings are connected somehow, but they are on one side of camp and we are in like a damn broom closet all the way across the expansive area. Creeping around the building is hard when you can only hear your battered heartbeat in your ears and not hear if there is someone around the darkened corner. They are sneaky little bastards, I give them that. I couldn't let someone come up on me again without knowing about it. That's only setting myself up for immediate death and I definitely can't let that shit happen.

And then I hear them. They're screaming at someone. It sounds like there may be four of them or so. I think I could take them if I had to, maybe. So much for my stunted growth in self confidence that I thought had occurred. I do quickly recognize some Arabic words from our pre-deployment training. They made us take all of those classes assuming that we'd learn the entire language in two days and actually have the brain capacity remember it along with every other thing they shoving down our throats at the time. I thought it was bullshit of course, but certainly at the time I was rather pissed about the predicament that I found myself in. Now I wished I had paid more attention because I think he said to kill him.

Oh God, he DID just say to kill him, but it was an order to kill them all. I take a quick glance around the corner and I found the entire group of males in my Company that were here. They were all kneeling in front of these fuckers. Most of them are still clothed in nothing but their boxer briefs. If it were any other situation I would have found it humorous and may have felt sorry for the kid with SpongeBob writhing around on his ass. As it is now, they look just like they are in a cheaply filmed execution scene. I quickly count and come up with twenty one. That means that my other girls aren't here and they are no where to be seen. What I wouldn't give to have them with me right now. Strength in numbers and all that shit.

Shots begin ripping through the cold night air. Not just one round but multiple gun shots ring out into the too quiet atmosphere. I jump up quickly and fortunately I didn't dare make a noise and then more shots begin going off.

What the hell are they doing?

My brain is just now realizing that these people are actually executing my men. It seems so surreal like it can't be true. None of this is supposed to happen at a hospital site.

This isn't real.

This is just a nightmare. I've got to wake up from this nightmare!

They just keep shooting and screaming louder and louder and I have no fucking clue as to what to do. They are all lying there dead and more are of them are dying because I can't get the fuck over there or make my god forsaken boots move.

I'm supposed to lay down my life for my country, for my husband, for my child, for my future grandchildren and look at me, I'm cowering and crying all because I don't want to die. This is why women are told they shouldn't be in combat. I give women soldiers a bad name.

Fuck!

I still don't see my women, where are my girls? We were just talking about faking orgasms and telling Private Shannon just to get go her self off, so what happened? Where did they go? Where's my perfect life that I had? It sure as fuck isn't in the desert, not in hell.

That's when I saw that man again. He was the same one who had stared me down into oblivion earlier in the night. I must not have been quiet enough and with my sobbing gradually growing louder he had heard me. I thought he would have killed me by now or does he know that I'm already dead inside after everything I have just been witness to tonight? And silently I pray for God to make him go away or just to get death over with and out of the way. I want it quickly. I want it painless. I just want to be gone.

"Please Lord, let him take me now or just make him go away. I know I am not the Christian my dad raised me to be, but who is completely in this world? Please, I will never beg for anything again. "

I continued chanting, "Please Lord, please Lord, please Lord" over and over again to myself and whoever else could hear me.

And go away he did. He left me lying here face down in the sand and God only knows what else. For the second time tonight I slowly slip away and let the darkness over take me again, the whole time thinking of how I could add another failure to my list.

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**I just wanted to take a minute to thank those of you who have been reading this. Please let me know what you think even if it is to tell me to give it up on this story. Things will move along, but again we have to see what Bella's been through to fully understand what mindset she's in. If you feel the need please review! It'll make me very, very happy!**

**Jen**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to S.M. for these characters to play with.**

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EIGHT MONTHS LATER…. Back in the States

I find myself sitting alone outside on the hard, cold concrete of my shit-hole apartment's front steps and I finally realize that I am all alone.

No reason to live. No want to live. I am all alone.

The stairway that leads to my one bedroom apartment sits five steps away, but I sit on the ground looking at my used cigarette butts that I have strewn in no such pattern around my sandaled feet. I have a hard time wearing shoes anymore, especially boots. They remind me of once was and what will never be again. Boots remind me of a hope that was all but lost in one horrific night. Running shoes remind me of hope that was drowned out by my relentless tears. Ultimately I am stuck with an old pair of Teva sandals that are worn so thin. They are just a reminder of how worn down I am physically and emotionally.

I don't dare smoke in my apartment because it would make my miserable life a reality. Plus, I actually can't stand the putrid smell that it leaves everywhere. The smell attaches itself to every crevice that it can find even ones that you don't know are there. I continually wear my lifeless hair in a pony tail so that I don't have to be witness to the odor of what I'm knowingly doing to myself and also so I don't have to see the neglect in what used to be so precious to me. It was the one thing on my body that I actually liked and was proud of. I can already see that neglect and its affects all over the rest of my rigid body.

As the smoke dances around my face, I grimace as I float back to the fact that I have no reason to go in to my own home.

There's no one there.

No sounds of laughter, no sounds of tears, nothing.

Nothingness.

This is what my wretched life has become.

I sink deeper into the shadows of the night with the only two things in my world that bring me short solace, my recently purchased cheap bottle of liquor and my cigarettes.

Even walking the short distance to the liquor store is a chore. I'm out of breath by the time I reach the cashier and in no mood to speak to anyone, especially the cheery little bitch who always happens to be working when I stumble into the store. I'm there so often they know me by name, albeit not my real name.

Again, I'm alone. No one knows who I am exactly, not that they want to know or care to make that small effort. Not even me. I don't know if I ever will become who I formerly was.

My family is gone.

My husband is gone.

My beautiful son is gone and I'm left alone in the one place that I should have never made it back to breathing and alive. I should have had my very own Army issued body bag that I arrived home in.

All I remember are the hushed whispers of the returning convoy the next morning. I couldn't understand a word that they were saying as my eyes turned and opened to the blinding morning sky. I quickly lurched with a start and puked all over some unsuspecting Private's boots. That's when the hyperventilating began and everything went pitch black again. The blackness was easier because there was no thought. No authenticity to the situation that I had found myself in. I awoke a few days later in Germany, apparently with an IV and a pounding head. That's where my life came to a resounding halt. The whispers of nurses and doctors that I could hear right outside of my door who continually said that I was the only one to come out alive from the brutal massacre. How I did, they couldn't understand. I couldn't believe that I had failed not only the men, but my girls and their unsuspecting families. We were only a few months away from coming home. All of us home and all of us that remained, very much alive. It was too much for my mind to accept and my frail body shut down on me in Germany and I went into another comforting, catatonic state. I was breathing, I was walking around in my own little numb world and I wanted to die. Everything just went downhill from there.

I arrived in Texas within the next two weeks to continue my rehabilitation. They didn't want me to return to my home in La Push until I could prove to them that I would continue eating and gaining weight. I had lost 20 pounds that I couldn't afford to in the past few weeks since the attack. Every time I ate I felt as if my stomach was turning itself inside out. It was the one constant that I could hold onto. I needed that pain just to help me deal with being alive while so many others were not. Nothing stayed down and the doctors told me that was one of the measures my brain could come up with while trying to help me cope with all of the needless loss. This was the first time they had mentioned PTSD to me, it wasn't the last. So basically I was crazy and it was all in my head. They put me on a liquid diet which seemed to help at first, it just confused my brain and allowed me to trick the doctors into thinking I was getting better. By this time Jake and Jack had arrived to stay with me in housing outside of the hospital. I put on a brave face and an even better brave façade because there was no way I was going to show them how all of this had truly affected me. Jake knew though, he could tell but Jack was none the wiser. He was just happy him mommy was home and that we would be going back to Washington in the next week. Jack thought it was a mini vacation and we were staying in an Army Hotel of sorts. Thank God he was so young that he couldn't grasp what was going on inside of his momma. It would have completely torn my already shattered heart had he understood how bad I was hurting.

And they say I'm the lucky one. How the hell do they know? I think they make up names for the problems that I came back with to make me feel as if I'm not crazy. PTSD, Compassion Fatigue, Survivor's Guilt, you name the mental disorder and I had it. Such bullshit, I know I'm just completely crazy. I know I've lost it and because of that fact I know I am now no longer among the living. I may be breathing, but it isn't really living. Day to day come the same dull facets of my life that pull me back into this blanketing depression. Nothing changes because I can't change what occurred that horrifying night and that will forever be burnt into my cascading memories. It's like all of the events that happened that night are on constant replay and I can't bring myself to watch it anymore.

Taking a sip, the very cheap, clear liquid burns the back of my already irritated throat as I drink it down rapidly. Too much smoking is what my first therapist had said. Physical Medical advice from the shrink. You'd think he would much rather work on the shit in my head but he'd never tell me to quit smoking. It was my only way to deal with the current shit state of my life. The first time I went to the VA I was all but completely turned away from the help that I deserved. The help that I had earned. They had the rationale that women didn't need therapy from their already bogged down Mental Health staff. They believed that women didn't ever go into combat so we didn't need their services. That's when they tried to stick me into group therapy. How can you be honest with a therapist about anything, especially the sexual assaults that occurred, the 'weenus' contraption that we were granted while on convoy so we wouldn't have to stop and squat somewhere just to go to the bathroom and the fact that they put all of us on birth control so that we wouldn't be considered unsanitary for longer that what was their ideal length of time with a room full of male veterans? So obviously group didn't work for me. One good thing about therapy or therapy groups was that they didn't care how much you smoked as long as you "shared" with others. You could light one right after another for the hour you were there if it made you comfortable enough to share your deepest, darkest secrets with strangers.

I didn't used to be this way. I never smoked before I left. It was a nasty habit that I ignored when I was around it. I was a runner. The key being I was. I'm not now. I am a shell of what I once was, I am no longer human on the inside, and I'm nothing. I've let myself disintegrate down to barely a hundred pounds with no recognition of myself when I stand in front of my full length mirror in the bathroom. My hair is falling out. It's as dull and lifeless as the rest of my body.

Nothingness, that's what I want.

Silence.

The only way to make that happen is sitting inside my jacket pocket waiting to be opened and to be taken. I'm not crazy, I'm just numb. It's a numbness that fills every ounce of my being, every inch of my long forgotten body, every section of my unstable mind. As I take another drink, another rough pull off the bottle, more numbness settles in and my resolve to live is finally gone.

It's not safe sitting out here alone on the sidewalk, but who cares about my safety. I'm the lucky one, right? I came home when our time was over. I survived the attacks. I was the only one. Not a soul can begin to touch me here. This is my home. They couldn't kill me there while they were so intent on destruction and chaos, so what's going to happen here?

As I glance across the street to a bar that sits on the corner, I can see a man eye fucking me from his perch at the bus stop. I notice that he's very nicely dressed in a designer suit, but that means nothing. Even the nicely dressed men in my life have fucked me over more than once. Leave it to a man in uniform to crumble any life that still existed within me.

It's on a street corner that means nothing to me.

In a town that means nothing to me.

I mean nothing to me or to anyone else for that matter.

I lay back surveying the ground where I have added to the artistic arrangement of my cigarette butts. The man makes a move but doesn't come all the way across. Do it, I beg him. Put me out of my misery, so that I don't have to take the cowardly way out. I've been a coward too often and I don't want to do it again. Just end it for me so I don't have to myself. As I beg him with my eyes to come and take the pain away, he turns and walks in the opposite direction. He practically runs away.

What did I do wrong? Why did his plans change? Do I really look that pathetic that someone who obviously wanted something from me just turns and walks away like the thought never crossed his mind? No, he must have seen the wild person in my eyes. Or maybe he just saw the blankness within me that goes all the way to my core, to my soul.

Right, I forgot.

I guess I am the lucky one.

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**Sorry this one was shorter but I felt this was a good place for it to end. Bella's really jacked up right now, but I do assure you that things will get better. Of course we know life has to get worse before it can get better. Remember this will be E/B eventually, she just has to get there for her sake. Thanks to everyone who is reading. If you feel like it leave a review to tell me if you like/dislike where this story is headed!**

**Jen**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N- I hope you enjoy. Things will start getting there with this story but I just needed some sort of background on what Bella has been through recently. Give it some time. **

**We all know who owns these characters, thanks again S.M.!**

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**CHAPTER 4**

After what seems like a century I amble up my stairs quite pitifully drunk even for me and I'm coming close to the complete numbness that I'm searching for. Fumbling for the key I lose my step and fall to my knees. I'm so damn shaky; my entire body is trembling in wave after wave of anxiety and nervousness. What in the hell is wrong with me? I realize then that the mind numbing tears have decided to take up residence on my already red and swollen face. I never cried before I left for Iraq. Maybe when I married Jacob or when I gave birth to my baby, but other than that I rarely shed a tear.

I had such great control over my emotional side. People always told me I was so much like my father and emotionally I really was. Charlie was so reserved compared to my mother. He didn't show his feelings very often, but when he did it was quite humorous to watch his mustache twitch as if on its own accord. It was always the same if he was angry, happy, startled, upset or whatever. It was always the same little twitch that you wouldn't notice unless you had lived with him or had hung around him for a long time. Renee was so different, though. I don't see how they've remained married this long. She was so exuberant and highly excitable. Mom never did anything with much thought put into it. There was always something newer to try, something more exciting in her mind. That's why when I signed up for the Army Reserves while I was still in college I thought she would be proud of my spontaneity. Well, that definitely wasn't the case. I truly thought she was going to kill me. It was so unlike me to do something so brash she had said to me through a curtain of tears. Of course this caused quite a few arguments between the two of us. I really don't think our relationship has ever been the same. It definitely hasn't been the same since I returned home. She can't even look at my face without bursting into stinging tears. I know she feels guilt over letting me join initially, but would never blame herself completely. There's always someone else, specifically myself or Charlie and always something else to put blame on. She always hated my recruiter with his laid back demeanor and promise of money and college loan repayment. I'm sure if she could get him alone in a dark alley she wouldn't shy away from pulling dad's shotgun on him.

And then more of my memories over take me and start to pull me down the same damn spiraling hole.

Every day and every night.

They were always the same.

Each scene was different but the finality of the memories was all alike. I couldn't save everyone and I couldn't save myself.

The thunder of the rocket that crushed through our field hospital. The jolt of the impact of the continuing rocket strikes as they crashed against unsuspecting spectators. The screaming of threats in foreign tongue that caused chill bumps to rise every time that I heard them. The screaming of the men as they were killed like cattle at slaughter right in front of my eyes. The Iraqi's eyes who bore right through me like I was not worth the bullet that he was getting ready to put through my skull. My friends, my brothers, my sisters, most of them dead or kidnapped. Then there was me, alone and alive to try to clean up the mess.

Why did they not want me? Why was I left behind? I truly believe things would have been so much easier on my family, friends and of course me if I had come home ready for burial, but as my luck would have it I only had a few minor cuts and scrapes and not to mention a shit load of mental issues. My family would have been able to let go and truly get over losing me if I had died. Now they have to be reminded that I'm still breathing and look like the same old Bella with some minor changes, but not really resembling anything familiar to them on the inside. I am poison. Infecting anything and everyone that I come into contact with and kill them slowly and quietly without them ever knowing it. It's pretty sickening when you think about it that way. I never physically killed anyone during war but I'm killing my family at home. I'm still a murderer any way you look at it. I couldn't even save my friends so it was like I helped in killing them, too. Like I placed the knife at Schoonover's throat and pulled, like I hung Pentley and set her on fire and like I held Shannon down and watched as she was repeatedly raped and sodomized just for the last one to cut into her, shaving tiny little pieces off of her body until she was drained of blood and quit breathing.

I finally steadied myself enough with my key in my hand to get through the door of my apartment. I live in such a shitty and run down area of Seattle that I have four damn locks to undo just to get the door open. It's so different than where I grew up at in Forks, just a couple hours from where I am now. My family home wasn't much to look at but it was safe. I don't remember ever feeling as if I really needed to lock our doors. Charlie being the Police Chief in our small, quiet town seemed to make everything better. Of course there were the never ending speeding tickets and the occasional trouble that a teen would fall into but nothing was ever serious enough to be concerned. I never had to worry about anything terrible happening to me or my family. Then the home that Jake and I shared on the Reservation, right on First Beach in La Push. He had built it for me and it was damn near perfect in every sense with it's wrap around porch and rocking chairs, my beautiful custom kitchen which I loved, our master bedroom with it's king size handmade oak bed and our bathroom which admittedly I really missed. Nothing happened on the reservation that ever needed the cops. Everyone took care of their own and took care of their neighbors. Living here in this dilapidated building with 10 other tenants that I didn't even know nor had I seen was completely different. I was no one to these people. I could have died in my apartment and they would know no better until the stench of my decaying body would enter their world. Even then they probably would just let me rot away.

I took the second bottle of liquor that I had acquired from the customary brown bag that they constantly used to put it in and took several pulls as my body eventually started to simmer down. I can't remember a time where my body didn't feel like I was going to implode on itself since I arrived home. It was always something. A stuttering heart beat, an empty pain in my chest, nausea, terrible shaking to where I couldn't' even hold my cigarette, headaches that felt like they would never end and the hole in my heart that would never close and heal.

Damn the memories. Damn the nightmares. Damn the friends who had to die. I really don't think I can take anymore of this pain. It's a pain that rocks me to my core. I used to think that I would wake up one morning and everything would be back to normal; that I would be the same old me from a forgotten time long ago. That was until I realized that this is my normal life now. I'll never be happy. I'll never share joy with anyone else. It's just me and my hellish nightmares that I wake up from. I mean why would I want to share that with anyone? No one deserves to go through life with me and what I deal with. I would slowly kill them just like my family. I can't think about doing that anyone else ever again.

It was decided then so I carefully began trying to pull the bottle of pills out of my coat pocket. I don't even recognize my own small hands as they worked feverously with the child proof top. I think they are just drunk proof tops because my son would always be able to get these stupid things off the tops of his bottles of vitamins.

Oh my son. My gorgeous, silly, six year old son. My Jack. I wonder if he misses his mommy as much as she misses him. Hopefully his piece of shit father has kept that whore Leah, who ruined our marriage, out of his life.

That is what I call hope. Hope that he isn't hurting due to what his stupid parents have done. It's the one part in my life that I don't take complete blame for. If that asshole could have been half the man that our son was everything would be okay. One day, in a different time, Jack and I will be back together again.

I remember the night I left plain as day even through all of the alcohol I've ingested this evening.

"_**Bella, we need to talk." Jake looked so guilty as he said this.**_

"_**Okay, honey, let me get this crazy kid to bed and we'll grab a beer and sit out on the porch." I was truly dreading this conversation and I knew what was coming but seriously? One week after I got home from war? You're fucking kidding, right? **_

_**We go outside and sit in our his and hers matching rocking chairs and sit in silence for what seems like forever. The waves seemed to know what was going on. They crashed furiously against the rocks as I waited for him to say something, anything. **_

_**He finally spoke up, "I just don't think I can do this anymore. I can't live like this, us just tiptoeing around one another like we were never in love to begin with."**_

_**I take it all in stride. I knew that his letters to me overseas were getting more and more distant as the months wore on. He was barely even telling me he loved me by the end. It never failed with Jacob, that was the one thing that he would always make sure he said no matter if we were angry with one another or not. He lost his mother without being able to tell her he loved her one final time and so with that he always made a point that Jack and I would always know how he felt.**_

"_**Who is she?" I ask point blank. You could see the pain behind his eyes as he acknowledged that I knew what had been going on all along.**_

That's where I make this specific memory stop. It only serves one purpose to me. Reminding me that yet again I was left by someone I loved and that what he did to me finally created the mess that I truly was. My baby was the only reason as to why I seemed like I was coping with life. They couldn't see what other people had done to me. They couldn't see the pain that I lived with daily. I remember waking up from one vicious nightmare to Jacob physically trying to hold me down. Through all of the sweat and tears that were mixing on my body I realized that I had him by the throat. I didn't sleep for 48 hours in fear of what would happen if I closed my eyes again. Eventually exhaustion won over and I awoke with a start from another dream while he lay asleep on the couch in the living room.

After what seemed like hours I finally get the damn top off of the bottle and there are six pills sitting on my kitchen counter. An internal battle rages within me. What if I was meant to come back from that hell hole and do something great? Maybe I could get on with my life and I just wasn't trying hard enough to make that happen. In therapy they tried to tell us what we went through would make us better, more whole. That every puzzle piece of our life fit together somewhere no matter if that piece was horrifying or not. That there were positive links that it would be attached to and they would make me a better person. I think they are all full of shit. They were just trying to make themselves feel better. Not me, I'm done. I'm numb and cold and ready to end my everyday hell.

People have no idea what we went through over there. They consider themselves high and mighty because they are citizens of the great United States of America and you should see the way they look at us veterans. The ones that make sure that they continue to remain free. They take pity on those vets that you can physically see their injuries, but for those of us whose injuries are invisible we are just seen as plain fanatical. Like we are making up what we are going through for attention. I really wish that was the case because I wouldn't be sitting here debating with myself over whether I really wanted to die or not. Those of us who are physically injured and those who are emotionally scarred are no different and we are sure as hell are not the same. I had heard for years what the guys went through in Vietnam and how people treated them when they returned home from their own version of hell. How people would kick them when they were down. Turning them away at every corner, even at the VA where they were supposed to receive help. I truly didn't believe it could be that bad, but then again I guess you don't know until you've lived through it yourself.

As I swallow the pills I say a silent prayer to God that he understands why I'm doing this. Why I do this I'm not sure. I prayed to a God that let my guys get killed, let my girls become destroyed, but I still believe that he's there, somewhere and that maybe I deserve to actually be listened to and granted this one little prayer. That's the thing about faith, no matter how far down you are it always offers that one little spark of I guess optimism. Hope that there's someone there listening to your prayer and maybe, just maybe it will be answered this one time. I pray that there is a greater reason for me to end this. That in some way I am actually making the lives of my family easier. This isn't only a selfish decision, it's about taking their lives into consideration, too. I can't do it anymore. I can't keep continuing to go on with my life this way. This is no way to live. I wouldn't wish this fate and decision on my greatest enemy. I plead with him to show my son how much I love him and what he means to me. I pray for him to be with the guys who actually made it back and as I'm drifting in and out of consciousness I call one of the only friends that I have left. One of the only ones who have stuck around to see me and my life crumble apart into little, irreplaceable pieces.

I can't fucking do this. I can't end this. I want to think I can get better and be a better person or even to be a halfway normal individual. I want to love again and to be loved even with my emotional scars. As I quietly whisper to Rose about what I've gone and done to myself this time, the darkness plunges around my mind. At least I'm not scared of the darkness anymore. It's the one thing that gives my body comfort.

In my head I keep telling myself this isn't real but everything and everyone were the same. Captain Karen Pentley walked by and waved and Private Jorge Garcia came up and gave me a hug. What is this? It's not the normal nightmare that consumes me every night. I saw Private Garcia with only one limb left. He was hit with a roadside bomb within the first month our boots were on the ground. And Karen, sweet, sweet Karen. She was a nurse who I watched the attackers knock around and take her with them. This can't be real. These people are DEAD. They are supposed to be dead. I keep walking in this new area and I know it's all in my mind. Everyone I see look as if their clothing was stitched by the hands of God. As I continue on there are those faces that I know. The ones that I see every night and then there are new ones.

I heard a rustling behind me and turn to glance to see what it was. I feel like a spectator in my own mind. I see him. It's him. My grandfather, Charlie's dad who left me while I was in training at God knows where. I never even got to say goodbye to him and to countless others over the years.

And then the loud noises take over. There are so many people talking over me, around me and I can't tell what they are saying. It's all a jumbled mess and then the shock. It feels like I was just kicked by a 400 pound mule. And there are the voices again but they are dying out. Shit, the shock lights me on fire yet again. And then I hear them, they're talking about me. They're losing me. They think they are losing me.

"No you're not!" I try to scream as loud as I can but I can't manage to move my lips.

I can hear them. I don't understand why they think I'm slipping away. I hear one of the guys talking about what pills I took and that I wreaked of alcohol. Well no shit! It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. I think that's what I told Rose on the phone that I had done. I really can't remember.

I try screaming again as they are shoving something into my throat. That's when I lost my battle. Everything goes black and the nightmare begins again. I didn't retreat to the place I was before. This place was different. I didn't know you could actually smell things in your dreams but there it was metal and burning flesh. I turn to my right and trudge along in what seems to be some sort of water. It's a little thick for liquid but I really don't know. The smells are so close and I cling to the hope that I'll wake up soon. There's a small light a little ways up so I continue on trying to move my feet but they feel as if they are being weighed down with something invisible. I bend down to stroke the liquid that I'm going through and as I bring my hand to my eyes I let out a scream. Of course it's not water. It's all blood. I begin trying to run towards the light as quickly as possible but stop abruptly when I hear my name. I can't understand since no one has ever been alive in my nightmares before. I turn towards the female voice and a small whimper slips through my tightened throat. There, Karen is hanging above my head in the same manner as she was in Iraq. It couldn't have been her that spoke but then I look again and what's left of her eyes are open and there's a small frown playing across her charred lips.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Black?" she bellowed at me.

I had no answer to this. I truly didn't know what the fuck was going on.

"Can't answer your Captain or have you just forgotten everything that you learned about respect in the Army?" she asked.

"No, no mam. I just, I'm so confused. This place isn't like the places I normally see and usually people don't talk to me but, I, I just don't know." I say shakily to the talking corpse.

"You think you shouldn't have lived, right? You think that you should have done more. Am I on the right track?" she asked.

"Well, yeah but there's more to it than that. Seriously, how the hell are you talking to me?" I questioned.

"That's an answer for another time; this is your nightmare you know. Anyway, you made it. You survived. I have to tell you we are all okay. Obviously we didn't want to die that night but seriously we are all okay. But you, on the other hand, are not. You have a life to fight for. A child to fight for. You can't keep tormenting yourself with this everyday shit like you have been. What? You think we aren't watching you?" she said.

I quivered and shook trying to grasp everything in my mind. Currently I was standing in a river of dark red blood talking to a charred corpse of my former best friend. Odd, huh?

"I promise Bella you will get your head out of your ass. You will get better it's just going to take some time. You have to let it happen and let all of the guilt slip and fade away. Do you understand or do I have to start doing a little song and dance for you?" she asked.

I shook my head and actually laughed. This was fucking insane. I answered her though and said," I understand but I don't know where to start. Look where I've gotten myself this time."

Bending my knees due to my inability to comprehend what was going on, I felt like I was going to pass out. Gradually everything started turning to black and I could no longer see Karen. I tried to shout out to her in the pitch black darkness but it began to over take all of me. All of my senses were being tossed around like a life boat in the ocean. I couldn't understand what was happening but I let the darkness take me over once again.

I wake up to an annoying beeping sound and a hushed voice speaking to someone. I want to open my eyes but they won't budge. I feel like I've had an elephant sitting on my chest for the past week. This sure was a turn of events. I don't know how I was talking to Karen one minute and being woken up the next by an ever increasing beeping noise. Did I seriously die? Is this what my guys saw when their heads were blown away?

A grisly image of twenty one men, my men, sitting in a line and all being blown away by a firing squad shoots across my mind. I try to cry out to tell them to move but I'm stuck. I'm stuck again in nothingness and I'm numb. I must have made some sort of noise because what I thought was a nurse was right by my side assuring me that everything was going to be alright. I fought to get my eyes open and saw what I thought to be an angel. My nurse, the angel.

"Her heart rate is increasing too much. We have to do something to get her to calm down." she says to the doctor standing right beside her.

"Shhh, sweetie. You are safe now. We need you to calm down so that we can take care of you." she whispered to me.

I try to answer her and all that comes out sounds like a groan and that's when I realize I've still got this damn tube down my throat and I struggle to pull it out. I couldn't get the right grasp around the thing and they had it taped down like freaking Fort Knox or something. The nurse fully envelopes me as she tries to calm my body and my ill fated attempts to pulling out this stupid, irritating tube.

"Calm down, it will be removed as soon as you can calm yourself down. That's it just calm down. Nothing here will hurt you." the nurse said to me.

"Dr. Marcus, we need to get her to calm down. Do you recommend a shot of Versed or Ativan? I really don't know what else her heart and body can handle after tonight," she said quietly to a doctor that I couldn't fully see.

"Yeah, go ahead and give the Ativan to her so you can remove her tube. She will have to be moved to the Psych Ward for a 72 hour stay after we get her sedated, anyway." this Dr. Marcus, who I was beginning to not like, answered the nurse.

What the hell did he just say? 72 hours in a Psych Ward! I'm not crazy I try to say and all it is, is some sort of mumbled groaning again.

"I swear!" It comes out clearly in my head but it's just a jumbled mess outside of my body apparently. Fuck! I would have never gone through with it. That's why subconsciously I called Rose. Don't they see that? That's when my angel approaches and steps in.

"Marcus, why don't we talk about this later outside of the curtain. All this is doing is shooting her heart rate up again." she chided him.

"Ssh, Ssh sweetie. I promise we're going to get you straightened out in no time. You'll see, just don't worry and I will be here for you no matter what." the angel who was now leaning over my bed whispered to me, again. It was such a maternal voice. One that I hadn't ever heard from Renee, even as a child. Being the boisterous and overly excited woman that she was there was no time for her to actually be maternal to me. It was excitement always, 24/7. I internally wondered if this nurse had kids of her own or if she was like this with every disastrous suicide attempt gone awry.

They were gone for what seemed like forever and I tried using all of my calming mantras that my therapy leader taught us when I first arrived home. He told us to think of something that was important and something that would help us in certain situations. Like if we sat and said something inside of our minds that the anxiety would magically go 'poof' and disappear. Just a crock of shit if you asked me, but I had concocted so many different mantras, I didn't know which one to use now. I guess there's a first time for everything.

"Quit being a little bitch", no that wasn't the right one, that's the one I tried to use while I had been running. Trying to run the demons out of me. I figured if I ran myself into the ground there would be no more pain other than what my body was feeling at the moment. The running had been a therapy of it's own for me before I truly hit rock bottom and quit going to all and any therapies. It had worked for a little while but it never had the lasting effect that I so badly craved. At least maybe I could have died of a heart attack or heat stroke but again this is Washington so I never had that hot of weather with no rain. I had never been athletic when I was a child but I could actually run. It was the one thing that my Drill Sergeants didn't bitch about to me every day that I was at Basic Training.

Eventually I settled on "It can never happen again. I am in control of my future". It was one of those that I had thrown together for a therapy session so I wouldn't get the stink eye from my second shrink. She was a scary little thing. I remember her name being Mrs. Jane. One scary bitch. I think the mantra actually might have worked and I'm feeling somewhat calmer or whatever the hell drug cocktail she gave me is really doing its job this time.

I don't think I've been this relaxed in a long time. All of the tension, the over active heart beats, the sweats, the constant waves of nausea and over all feeling of walking death seems to be washed away for the time being. I really hope I can get some of this shit when I get out of here. If I ever get to walk away from this hospital. Who the hell knows they may end up locking me up in some mental institution. I kept thinking about how annoying that beeping really was and more quickly and quietly than I can ever remember I eventually drifted off into a different kind of sleep.

**Thanks for reading! Leave me something, anything... Okay, I'm on my knees begging for a little review. :) **

**Oh just a little plug for a great story that I've been reading. It's called "Disjointed" by Simone and Marie. It's definitely different from their other stories but it's just as captivating. Go check it out and review for them! Definitely worth your time and if you haven't read anything else that they've written you need to check out their stories "Sex On Fire" and "Beautiful Nightmare". **

**Jen**


	5. Chapter 5

**Well, I'm back again with another chapter. I hope those who have read are enjoying this. We're just starting her time in the hospital, but Bella should be getting out in a few chapters or so. It's definitely going to be hard on her to go through, but it will be worth it in the end. **

**We know who these people belong to but a cute Dr. Yorkie belongs to me. Yeah, I said it!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 5**

As I awaken from this drug induced darkness I can still hear the annoying beeping sounds as they filter through my concrete walled room. It's like the echo is ringing in my ears and as I glance around with my swollen, puffy eyes I now realize that it was because my current room is completely devoid of everything. No tables, no chairs, no fern in the corner. Nil, zilch, nothing.

Nothingness yet again takes over my life. Ironic isn't it? When the moment comes that I want something in and out of my life it's not available, not even in my hospital room.

I quietly lift up realizing that the damn, irritating tube has now been fully removed along with probably half of my skin that was around my mouth and nose. I gradually move all parts of my body ensuring that everything is still in working order and what not, all the while making sure that I haven't gone through anything else traumatic while I was completely knocked out. It wouldn't surprise me if I actually had. I start at my completely naked toes. I make my way to my pale hands realizing that the stupid stunt I just tried to pull is the last straw in my almost non existent life that I've been living since coming home eight long, excruciating months ago.

Great, they went ahead and put an I.V. in while I was unconscious. Go figure even after being able to give these things to people for years, I am completely and neurotically scared of needles. While all my friends were tatting it up, I was wincing in the background drinking a cold sprite trying to get my stomach to calm down before I puked. I had a hard enough time with the thought of getting my ears pierced. That didn't happen until I was fourteen and I barely made it out of the piercing chair with two earrings. I tried to explain to them that I'd be fine with one but Rose and Alice wouldn't hear of it. Alice sat on my lap and held my arms down while the crazy lady wielding the piercing gun finished the job she had started thirty minutes before. Alice may be tiny, but that girl is tenacious. At least I don't have a catheter or some shit like that. That may be worse than the 'weenus' contraption that they gave us overseas.

Glancing swiftly around the room, I do notice that there's one very small window up at the top of the wall and one lone chair in the corner. The chair is so tiny and the plastic its made from is really rickety looking. I think if anyone actually decided to sit there ass in the broken down thing that it may fall apart before they ever hit it.

Coming back into reality and out of my mind I realized I had no idea what was going on. Where in the hell am I? What was my nurse saying to me as she left my room before I drifted into the mind numbing blackness that I was in? 72 hours.

Oh shit, 72 hour psych ward stay. Before I have a chance to work myself up and go into a complete panic attack my door is opening and I realize that it's Rose. Thank God she's here since she's the only person other than my son who can calm me down when I get completely worked up like this.

"What in the hell is going on?" she whisper yells at me. Only she can talk to me this way and get away with it. She really is scary if she has to be and right now she gets the chance to be that way with me. Generally she tries to not look at me with any ounce of pity, but it's always there. It's always on the tip of her tongue and in her eyes when she is staring at me hoping I won't notice. I've known her long enough and she's definitely not stealthy enough to get away with the blatant staring without me noticing. Some people think she's just rude and a self centered bitch when she stares like that. She does it all of the time, but she is just Rose when you get to know her. It took me months to talk to her when I started at Forks Elementary. She was scary as hell now just like she was scary as hell in first grade. Rose is the self professed drill sergeant which is funny since she's never been in the military, but she says it's the only way to get anything done that isn't half assed with people. As she is scurrying over to me she is trying to do so quietly as to not draw the unwanted attention of the staff that must be lurking right outside of my door.

"Hi," I say meekly as I turn my head to the floor. I grasp that I must be a nervous wreck because I am presently working my bottom lip over. Which, I might add, I only do when I am nervous or embarrassed, I guess in this situation it could be either one or possibly both. This is something I've always done or so Renee has said that I have done since I was a child. She always joked about me being on stage in my pink tutu and spray painted ballet shoes looking as if I was going to bite off half of my bottom lip whenever I missed a step. Of course that happened to be the entire time I was up there. I couldn't ever keep up with all of the other little kids and I mostly was able to accomplish just bowling the rest of my class over onto the ground with me before our dance was even halfway done. My teacher, who was a sweet woman I'm sure, pulled my mom to the side after my final recital and said that it would probably be best if they found something else for me to do besides ballet. I bet that paints a pretty picture. The uncoordinated little princess is what Charlie would always call me. He did that up until I was married to Jake and I think that's when he decided I had someone else to continually pick me up off of my ass.

"What were you thinking, honey?" she asks while gliding into the bed with me to pull me into a deep hug. Thankful for her pulling me out of my head again I finally realize what question she is asking me.

I think for a minute trying to find a way to say what I need to say without making her think that I'm crazy. Only if that was possible but really what's one more person to add to my growing list of those who already believe I am?

"I don't, I just really don't know, they took it, it all away. They took everyone away and I just can't deal. I just can't. Why am I at home and they aren't?" I asked quietly as I started to sob.

She just holds me like a child and continues telling me everything is going to be okay. She is so sure of it. It makes me wish that I was. I keep telling myself this is it, this is it, the final straw. I have to get help, I have to live. I am able to cry myself out in front of Rose. If it was anyone else outside of her and Alice I would have to keep it all in. It's just who I am. Rose starts humming to me and rubbing my sleep riddled head as I start to calm my already tired body down.

Apparently the nurse outside of the door heard my crying and headed into my room. I tried to dry my eyes, but it was a failure. With all of the crying I had been doing lately I was going to have to buy stock in some of that crème that claims to take away 'redness and puffiness' from your eyes. Rose just rubbed her finger down my tear stained face and kissed me on the forehead before she quietly walked out of the room. She turned around and whispered that she'd be right outside if I needed her.

I just love that girl. No matter what shape I've been in when she has found me, she has never left my side. She found me passed out in my hallway in the apartment building with puke all down the front of my clothes and in my hair. Rose picked me up and told me to wake the fuck up or she was going to kick my ass. So people would find that harsh, but I found it comforting at the time. She then found my keys and let us in and began to take care of me as she always does. Since that night she has never had to do that again. Embarrassed is not a strong enough word for how I felt in front of her the next day. She is the epitome of everything I ever wanted to be, completely opposite of what I truly am. She is a bombshell, one that could grace the covers of men's magazines. She's blonde, 5'11", one hell of a lawyer and can rebuild an engine in the matter of a day. She has the brains and the looks that I always wanted but we are completely different. I'm smart but definitely not a genius, 5'5" with long brown hair and slightly curvy body. Well, it used to be curvy. My curves were one of Jacob's favorite things about me before I left. He'd always say how perfect I was and how absolutely beautiful my body was to him. I guess things change, right? I always believed that I was the girl next door and honestly I always was. No one except Jacob ever looked at me as anything else. Always the girl who the guys wanted to go get a beer with and watch a game of some sort, it was never because they found me truly beautiful.

The nurse lightly coughed to herself and I was slowly brought out of the thoughts in my brain. I've noticed since I have been here that my brain has been taking short vacations on me and it is hard to rein back in. Hopefully it just the meds they are pumping me with and not a permanent problem that I'll be having to deal with as a result of my stupidity.

Okay, let's get this over with.

"How are you feeling this afternoon?" she asked as she was working with my IV and taking very in depth notes of my stats.

"I'm fine. I feel like I've been hit by a MAC truck, but I'm alive. That's all that counts, right?" I tried to pull off a fake smile as I was answering her.

She actually smiled a full on wide tooth smile. She smiled at me. I couldn't believe it. I must have looked like a fish out of water with my mouth agape just because a woman like her smiled at me and not out of pity. The nurse continued writing down what I thought were my stats as I started to stare off into space.

"Do you know why you're here and where you are?" she asked.

"Yes mam, I believe I do. I tried to ki, kil, hurt myself and called my friend Rose, I think. I think I called because I couldn't go through with it and now I'm in the psych ward, right?" I carefully answered.

She nodded her head and thoughtfully asked if I had any questions. I told her no, although, there were about a bazillion things running through my head at that moment. What happens now? Where will I go? Will I actually ever be released from here?

72 hours I thought. That's all I had to do and then I could get on with my life. Like hell I could get on with my life, where would I actually start? Would I go back to living in that shit that was played off as an apartment or would I try to move back home with my parents. Could I even call my parents and ask for help? I'd have to be well enough to get a job of some sort, something that could help pay bills. The little money I was receiving from the VA did nothing for me. I guess I could go and finish a Master's Degree of some sort, but what would I do with that? I guess these are all thoughts for another day since I'm stuck with these blank cinder block walls staring back at me.

The nurse looked at me with confusion. I guess I drifted off for a bit.

She finally informed me that a doctor would be in there after a little while to speak with me about some things. I laughed to myself because I knew that there would be plenty of doctors involved in the next 72 hours of my life.

My LIFE.

I'm still alive and I was right, that's all that mattered.

As the nightmarish day progressed so many different doctors and nurses strode silently through my room. All of these different people caused it to be really hard for me to remember who they all were. Of course some of them gave me no more than a nod but there were a few that decided they wanted to be extra chatty today like the nurse named Jessica. I swear there should be a hole where people like her should all be thrown in. Maybe that way they could all be chatty and snobbish together. I didn't give a shit that her latest fucking conquest Mike had a small dick, I really didn't. I could have cared less that he didn't have a brain. Add to that I didn't really care that she was getting laid at all. Of course she would be the only one that I completely remembered. The one person that finally drove me completely into the insane category. I guess I didn't remember much of the others after they started giving me more Ativan for my nervous ticks and that shit really made me fairly drowsy.

As one of the Doctors explained to me, I had not swallowed enough of those damn pills to actually kill myself, but to definitely mess with the inner workings of my system. I guess I didn't do enough research into it, but now I suppose I'm fairly happy about that slight over looking of severely pertinent information. Come to think of it I might need to tell some authorities that all the information that you need to do the deed is in reality plastered all over the internet. Who would have thought someone would be stupid enough to describe in details ways in which for you to off yourself and publicize it on its own web page?

That's the problem with this medicine they have me on, I may not be talking out loud a lot, but I can go off on one hell of a tangent inside of my own mind. It isn't like I didn't have inner ramblings with myself before but I always figured as long as I didn't start answering myself in public then I would be okay and still possibly half way sane.

I must have gone to sleep at some point because I'm quite surprised to see Rose still in the room with me. I hadn't even realized that she had back into the room. They don't really allow visitors here but I guess since she's the Assistant D.A. in town she can get what she wants. She's sound asleep in the corner in the broken down chair. She looks so beautiful still even though she's bent up like one of those Gumby dolls that we used to have as kids. I hate to see what I've done to not only myself but to her as well. Since she is one of my only friends that I still have remaining, I will definitely have to thank her in a big manner as soon as I'm released and able to go on my little, hopefully merry way. My only other girlfriend, Alice, is a Kindergarten teacher so I know she can't pull as many strings to come and visit me. Like I really need visitors in the psych ward. It's not like they don't personally know how fucked up I am. They've been around me in the good times and they've had to deal with the after affects of the bad ones.

The nurse who just walked through the door, who thank God is not that skank, chatter box Jessica, now tells me that Doctor Yorkie will be right in to discuss the plans for the next 72, wait, 60 some odd hours that I hopefully have left in here. At least I remember who he was. He is a quite young guy to be a doctor. Not too awfully bad looking, either, but definitely would never be my type. I can't believe I actually am thinking that a Psych doctor is pretty cute. How middle school of me. The real main reason I can remember him is because when he looked at me there was no sign of that pity in his face. He truly listened and seemed to genuinely care. It's not often that you look at someone who knows where you've been and what you've lived through and they show no pity in their eyes.

"Good morning, sweetie. How did you sleep? Are they treating you okay? You know I can get something done if I need to." Rose says as she is jumping out of her chair and glancing at her watch.

"I'm fine. Well, not fine, but I'll definitely be better. You don't know how much I really appreciate you being here. Uh, I don't have anyone except you and, and Alice and that means so much." I share with her as I begin tearing up. Damn it, all I seem to be doing is crying in this hospital.

"Well, I hate to run, but the Doc will kick me out anyway. By the way, he's sort of cute. At any rate, I have a meeting at the Courthouse at noon so for me to go and shower and get dressed I needed to leave an hour ago." she says with a smile that doesn't quite meet her clear, pale blue eyes.

I continue to thank her over and over again and tell her that I will eventually be okay. She looks so tired and worn down. I know it's not completely my damaged life causing her so much pain and lack of sleep, but it still bothers me none the less. Rose works so much at that law firm that she's never found anyone to really settle down with. I mean she dates but we all know how those will end, shitty sex and never another call made. I guess her non-settling, non-commitment nature could be attributed to the fact that she's a force to be reckoned with and no man has ever been able to handle her or keep up with her. They're either too boring, too exciting, too sporty, too whatever, but it's never been enough. I figure at some point she will meet THE GUY and will be knocked on her ass. Hopefully by that time I'll be all patched up and will be able to sit back with a beer in hand silently thinking "I told you so".

Doctor Yorkie came back into the room about a half an hour after Rose left. I couldn't help but smile back at him after he told me everything would be great and that they would get me back on track but first they had to find out what was causing all my emotional pain.

This is the part that I hate. All the back information that you have to dig up for them before you can even start your therapy of choice. It hurts every time you relive it, it hurts to the point that I can't breathe or even stand on my own when I speak of it. How the hell is this going to help when I feel like I'm dying just trying to get through it? Plus why in the hell did he have to be actually hot and I swear my girly parts haven't been cooperating with me for a year and now they decide to wake up momentarily. How am I supposed to tell him all of this and not turn three freaking shades of fire engine red all over?

I put my really bad thoughts about the good doctor aside and continue on with my conversation with Doctor Yorkie.

"I'd tell you to pull up a chair and relax while I spill my inner most secrets to you, but I think the nurse took the extra chair when my friend Rose left. It's going to take me awhile to get through all of this so you might as well be comfortable while I'm talking." I say to him as he just sits on the side of my bed and smiles down at me. Damn that gorgeous smile and bright blue eyes. I've always been a sucker for a good smile.

"Where do I begin and what exactly do you want to know?" I lower my head while I question him.

"I need you to tell me what pushed you to drink all of the alcohol that you had in your system and to take 6 Valiums on top of all of that. That's what I need to know. You will get into the more uncomfortable aspects of what got you to that point in your therapy sessions with Mr. Aro later this morning." he described as he was writing something on his notepad.

In my mind I do know what the nail in my suicide attempt coffin was, but how do I explain that to him without him knowing the complete history? He'll just think I'm some loser drunk that can't be a mom to the child that she gave birth to or that she's too caught up in her own troubles to take into consideration that she couldn't care for her son the way that he needed to be taken care of. So I just started and when I got into it I was in reality afraid that I couldn't stop.

"Well, sir, the reason I felt the need to try and off myself was because one week prior to this all of my visitation rights with my son were taken away because of my ex husband. No that's not right. Actually it was because of me." I barely made a squeak. I wouldn't have known he had even heard me if he hadn't been rubbing my shoulder up and down.

That's it. That's all it took. One statement about my son and shit head ex husband and I start sobbing so hard that I couldn't catch my breath. One measly comment regarding what about drove me to the bitter end of my life and I was a blubbering mess again. Every time I think about my baby my heart feels as if it's being torn out of my chest yet again. You would think that it had been torn apart so many times that it could no longer happen another time. I hadn't even gotten to the back story of my life and I can't speak. Hell, I can barely breathe. Just the thought of him not having me in his life was enough to make me want to end my life yet again, but what if he forgets who I am, who I was before my life turned into my own personal hell. What if Jacob's negative thoughts entered his mind and Jack thought I was a horrible person? Which, right now I even believe myself to be one. How could he believe that I wasn't if I couldn't either?

Who in their right mind would try to end their life just because it was hard? I did, I tried, but ultimately I failed. Like everything else in life. I fucking failed. I had failed as a daughter, as a soldier, as a wife, as a mother and at my one and only suicide attempt.

Doctor Yorkie cleared his throat while I'm going through another digression in my head. When I look back up at him he is smiling down at me like my father used to. He laid his hand on my shoulder and reassured me silently that I will be okay. As I calmed down he continued writing on his note pad and went on to tell me that I had a counseling session with Mr. Aro in an hour. He told me to eat a good lunch and be ready for him to come get me.

As I stared at my food I couldn't fathom putting that repulsive shit into my body even after I had thoroughly torn my body with alcohol and pills. But this shit sitting on my plate may have been worse than that. It was okay though since I wasn't very hungry and the thought of having this on my stomach while I lurched through the past few horrible years of my life made me nauseated even more.

It didn't take long for Mr. Aro to come in to get me to take me to another room for my session. Being an older man I thought he kind of looked like a grandfather. Mr. Aro was a spindly looking individual who wore a deep red hued shirt. It actually reminded me of the blood that haunted me in my worst, most horrifying nightmares. He looked me over and up and down and completely made me feel uncomfortable when he started shaking his white haired head. What the hell is his problem was the only question that came to mind and then I saw it, the tale-tell sign of who he was. He was Airborne and it was tattooed on his arm in all its glory. He may have been old school, but it was still there. Oh shit.

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**Just a short note: I appreciate all of you who have read this so far but please, oh please make my crazy day by leaving me some love, hate or even just an F You! It would definitely make my day. **

**I also wanted it to be known that I took some liberties with the Psych Ward and how I needed it to work for my story. So before you tell me it isn't realistic, this is why it was done the way it was. Thanks for reading!**

**Jen**


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter is a bit shorter because it's really just a filler for me. Things that she really needs to go through that don't need to be hammered on for too long. **

**We all know that I don't own the characters, thanks S.M.**

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**Chapter 6**

Looking back up at Mr. Aro told me all I needed to know about him from his shaggy, whitish grey high and tight to the way that his eyes viewed me condescendingly. I've seen that look with most every man I have ever had the benefit of serving in the military with. It's that look of loathing no matter how big or small it might be. It's always behind the eyes and lurking in the tautness around the mouth. Even I know that a person's eyes show every little thing that they are thinking and feeling at that exact moment. Besides it's not like this man could have seen and felt all of my thoughts when he grazed my shoulder with his spindle like fingers as I was walking through the door. It's not that it wouldn't be pretty awesome if he could do that, since it would mean I really wouldn't have to even speak to this prick.

He was definitely prior service of some sort, but who knows how long he was in. He had obviously already made his mind up that a woman never accurately saw combat first hand or that women really didn't deserve to be in any type of military service to begin with. It was the same shit just from a different therapist. From just the way he was behaving I could tell that this session was already going to be big trouble for me.

The medicine that they had me on calmed my crazy nerves, but not enough to fully take away the fidgety hands and lip knawing. I'm going to have to stop with this lip thing because when I get out of here I'd at least like to have two of them left. At any rate I'm not panicking just by the sight of Mr. Aro alone. That usually happens when I know I'm going to have to rehash everything that I've ever seen. I've had many a panic attack just walking into a therapist's office with their beige walls and fake plants. Add to that some shitty paintings thrown in and outdated magazines and I've got myself a massive, on the floor, heart attack inducing panic attack.

Why do they call him Mr. Aro anyway? Isn't he supposed to be a Licensed Therapist or a Psychologist to sit and talk to me? I didn't see the many degrees hanging on his walls that would normally adorn one of these offices. I really didn't notice anything in his office outside of a desk and old style computer. His office was complete with old paneling for his walls and a desk chair that looked as if it had seen better days. There were no windows, no plants, not one thing that made the office alive. Nothing that would prove to me that people actually came out of here breathing.

"Well, Mrs. Black, may I call you Sergeant First Class Black?" he glanced at my tapping toes and nervous fingers that I was currently trying to bite off while asking me.

He knew how I felt about that just by looking at me to the see the grimace that was currently taking up space on my face and the jerk also knew that just one of those looks would send me into uncontrollable tears. How men like this do that I will never know. Hence why they went into psychology, I guess. Just a total mind fuck to me.

"Yes sir you may but we both know that I'm no longer in the service." I answer as politely as I can.

"You know that you would have out ranked me had we both still been in, but you have probably never seen anything like I did. I've had the privilege of handing many men their life sentences in the two wars I fought in." the cocky, SOB had to say.

"I guess you could say that," I tried to be as nice as I could and not spit venom into his face since he was a veteran and all. I know that not all wars are the same, but I can't imagine them being totally different either. There's always going to be death, unneeded blood shed, civilian accidents, complete desecration of someone's homeland and the nightmares that come with all of that. I certainly can't give him any more reason to keep me here any longer than necessary with my behavior.

"Although, if you don't mind me asking, isn't this therapy session supposed to be what got me into this current mess to begin with? Especially about where I am now?" I asked still trying to bite my aching tongue.

He chuckled as he pulled out my small file from this hospital and his notebook. The file at the VA is massive and this one is so incredibly tiny in comparison. The VA had all of my information, not that they needed it since I hadn't been there in so long. At least I know that no one there ever doubted anything that I had to say. At least the therapists there weren't complete dicks. Of course, it was my decision to discontinue my treatment there, but who would have thought that action would have landed me here only three months later? I sure as hell didn't.

Mr. Aro continued to hound me about not being in "as dangerous situations" as what he had encountered on his tours in Vietnam and other non mentionable areas and telling me that all of this was probably in my head since I was a woman and my emotions were anything but normal just because of that fact. Here we go again with being a woman thing. If I had known just how hard it was going to be I really don't think I would have ever signed that initial contract. No amount of money was ever worth this shit. Oh hind sight how I hate you with an ever growing passion.

All I could think was that he was a complete and utter ass and that I knew what I had actually seen and what I had actually gone through. I'm sure how I felt was written all over my face. I was always told that I never could hide anything behind my eyes. What I wouldn't give for that ability now. I'm pretty sure that my mouth is going to betray me at some point during this hour long meeting.

Believe me, these weren't figments of my imagination. If they were I definitely would have been imagining dancing bears and unicorns maybe in ballerina outfits. They'd be dancing along a double rainbow. I could imagine beautiful colors, especially a forest green of a long lost meadow that I had once visited in my dreams so many years ago and there would be no trace of red or burgundy anywhere in my thoughts. The lushness of that meadow would definitely beat what I see behind my eyes now. I always loved how everything was so alive and vibrant in that meadow from the gigantic trees to the beautiful butterflies with their multicolored wings that would occasionally fly past my head as I lay in the flowing waves of green grass. I wasn't always alone in my meadow, but my dream always ended with me walking towards a figure to find out who this person was and that's when I would wake up to my day. It became especially frustrating, but after awhile I just enjoyed the feeling of utter peace that came with visiting my meadow in my dreams.

I think I may have just checked out of about 15 minutes of this counseling session when he cleared his throat.

Why do men have to be all the same? Trying to belittle my experiences and telling me that I tried to commit suicide for nothing. I really have to ask for a new counselor, if that's what he can even be considered.

We continued our battle of the soldiers, if that's what you could call it. I feel it is more the battle of the sexes. I'm not sure if this idiot could help anyone find their way out of a paper bag, but I guess I have to listen to him spill his shit for the hour, so I can ask Dr. Yorkie if there was another counselor who may be able to actually help me.

"Mrs. Black, I'd like you to answer my question truthfully. Did you not hear what I was asking you?" he asked me while a smirk played across his lips.

He knew I had in fact not heard him, why the hell didn't he just ask me again without trying to make me feel like a school kid. I really, truly, completely hate this guy.

"No, um, well, no. I didn't hear you Mr. Aro. I think this anxiety medicine is messing with my brain function." Consistent, verbal diarrhea, yep, that's what you can expect from me. I wish there was an available desk that I could beat my head on for just a little while, preferably not the one that he was currently sliding his nails up and down.

"Well, to repeat my question for the third time, please make sure you are listening to me. I asked you to tell me the truth about what you saw in Iraq that has supposedly plagued you with these problems." he sat and stared at me waiting for my answer.

Before I could form a coherent thought in my head, he decides to add in, "I don't want the bullshit story that you've been spewing to everyone else. I want the truth."

To add insult to injury, this jackass thought I was fucking lying about everything that had happened. I'm done with this shit, there is no way I can sit and listen to him anymore. The rage building up inside of me was undeniable. It was like a buried, but very alive monster trying to break free.

As I stood to let the monster break free and kick this sadistic, fucker's ass, I stumble and somehow I'm brought back to the reality of this situation. I can't do anything stupid to make them believe that I need to be locked up for an indeterminate amount of time. That's the last thing I needed. Plus, where the hell did my rage come from? I've never been that angry, not even the day that Jake told me that he was in love with someone else. My normal emotion that I rely on is numbness, borderline catatonic in some instances. It's the only one that's never failed me. Numbness takes away all emotions, whether good or bad. It's just easier than being continuously hurt by the unseen.

I look at the floor before I get ready to speak and again he beats me to the punch.

"We all know that you didn't treat anything more than a stubbed toe or a stomach ache, so there's no sense in lying again." There it was, my breaking point. It wasn't what he had said, it was that damn smirk that flitted across his ashen features as he had said it.

He's trying to provoke me into doing something rash and that I will definitely regret later on. He can't be this, this much of a sexist, bull headed, piece of shit. I attempt to calm the monster inside that is set in full blown rage again.

Sitting down in my weathered chair, I pull its base up to where my toes are almost touching his. I will not let another man beat me down and make me feel about an inch tall. I don't have to take his shit and I plan on talking to whomever to make this man's life a living hell. He won't be working here in another week if I have anything to do with it. I think Rose could definitely put the pressure on and help this situation.

Looking him into his dark eyes for the first time, I gently tell him, "If you feel you already know what happened there then I guess there's really no need to rehash my past. I will say this, though, if you had been one of my soldiers there with me that day, you would be six feed under the ground rotting away with the rest of them."

He stared at me while I continued.

"Maybe they would have spared your pretty boy ass and taken you with the women. You could have been their little screaming bitch, but truthfully, I think you would have had a bullet in your skull while your blood mixed with the blood of 21 other dead men."

"Well, I guess that's better than being kidnapped and raped like the women. Or maybe, just maybe, you could have been lucky to see the knife that slit one of my soldier's throats straight through. That may have been the way it would have gone down for you. That way they could hear your blood curdling screams as your blood pulsed through your open neck and pooled at their feet."

I shocked myself. My voice was pure evil where hate dripped from every syllable. I think I even smiled sweetly while my verbal diarrhea attacked the lovely Mr. Aro.

He shrank back into his worn chair as far as he could without tipping it completely over leaving him on his skinny ass. I really hope I haven't screwed this up, but what I said to him is everything he asked for, the truth. I guess the truth does set you free sometimes, because what little I let loose on him, left me feeling lighter. I'll regret this tonight when I sleep, though, when the nightmares revisit me again. Maybe I can get them to drug me up enough not to dream. I am the lucky one, right?

I briefly forgot that Mr. Aro was even in the room with me until I heard his chair scratch across the tiled floor I was so lost in my own mind.

"I, I think that's enough for right now, "he stuttered. "We'll revisit this topic at a later time, maybe."

I don't think I've ever seen a man so unsure of himself. I did that to him. Maybe this 72 hour stay will be worth it to get my life back and to find myself again. I know I'm inside here, somewhere.

For the first time I didn't struggle to get out of my folding chair that I had been sitting in for the past hour. My head was held high as I glided past Mr. Aro. I know what I'm going to do, but first I needed to make sure that I never have to speak with that asshole again. Hopefully, no one will ever have to be subjected to him, especially not a female soldier.

The nurse Jessica met me outside of the therapy room with a fake smile plastered across her face. Shit, this woman was back. How much more did I have to go through with these people?

"How did your first session go, Mrs. Black?" she turned to ask me.

I genuinely smiled and told her, "It was very refreshing and definitely enlightening." My smile stayed on my face until reality set in and we had reached my dreadful room.

When we walked in, she began explaining to me that it was time for my medicine and then dinner. After dinner, Dr. Yorkie would be coming back in to see me and to go over my first therapy visit.

I wasn't too thrilled about the med regiment, but the possibility of getting Mr. Aro, the asshole, into some deep trouble allowed a fleeting smile to cross my face.

Jessica then handed me my anti anxiety meds and a cup of water. At least I think they were for anti anxiety. I'll try anything at this point to get through these dreadful hours spent here. She retreated my room with a smile and a wave and said that dinner would arrive shortly.

About thirty minutes later, I am startled out of my staring contest with the furthest wall by my dinner tray being brought in. I softly thanked the older woman and got settled in with the tray.

I'm not that hungry and really I can't remember the last time I truly was starving. I stare at the tray with the thought that maybe it will make my stomach growl or something. Just some kind of physical reaction would be nice.

Of course that reaction won't come and I am forced to eat whatever nasty stuff they call food unwillingly. Lifting the top off of the tray, I am finding myself laughing at a far away memory of a dietician that I once worked with in the service. She would try everything to get soldiers to eat, even if it had to be reduced to liquid. I remember liquefied burgers, liquefied potatoes and liquefied chocolate cake.

I'm brought back to the present by the horrifying and slightly nauseating sight sitting in front of me. What in the hell is this stuff, again? I can recognize the Jello and the chicken noodle soup but I have no clue what the mystery meat and pile of pulverized, I think vegetables, are tonight.

I gradually begin picking at my lime Jello cup and soup when there is a knock on my door frame. Since right now, apparently, I am too crazy to have my door shut. Thank God for privacy curtains, though.

I'm being proactive and wanting to show Dr. Yorkie that I'm feeling a little bit better, so I call out to him. "Good evening, Dr. Yorkie." and I flash him what I hope isn't the same fake smile that the nurse gave to me.

He grins and the kindness he has just radiates off of him. "How are we finding ourselves this evening, Mrs. Black?" he asks.

He's now staring at my tray and begins chuckling. When he laughs, it's like his whole body is shaking. I can't help but giggle myself. I guess this medicine that they're giving me is actually good.

"Well, hopefully your care is better than the food that they serve here," he says under his breath.

My heart all out stops because I am reminded of how my first therapy session went. I continue smiling at Dr. Yorkie because I don't want him to notice the waves of nervousness radiating off of me.

"So let's get to it then. How did your session go with Mr. Aro today?" he asks, genuinely wanting to know.

My body shudders at the mere mention of his name and I can feel the rage building into my stomach again. I gently push my tray away from me because suddenly I can't even look at food. I sit up straight in my bed and pull my legs into me so that I am sitting basically on top of them.

I start by telling Dr. Yorkie that by no means do I want to start any trouble, but that I would like to request someone else to meet with besides Mr. Aro.

He just nods his head and almost looks confused, but then it was like a little light switch clicked on in his head. "I may have an idea as to why you are requesting someone new, but I need for you to tell me why in your own words," he says as he sadly smiles my way.

Talking, more talking. I don't know if I will ever get used to it. So I bite the proverbial bullet and begin my story. I finally slow down to take a breath. My face is wet along with the sleeves of my shirt. I hadn't even realized that I was crying yet again, but when I looked up to Dr. Yorkie, I realized I may have said more things to him, a perfect stranger, than what my heart was really willing or wanting to.

He got up from his perch on his chair and walked over to my bed and gently patted me on the shoulder. It made me jump at first and when he realized that I had started trembling as a result, he removed his hand and started pacing my room.

I realized at this point that he was trying to hide the fact that he was furious and I am hoping that his fury and anger are towards Mr. Aro and not me.

"I am so sorry for what you had to experience in there," he began. "You will never have to step foot in a room with him again. We have another counselor that may be a better fit for you. He is further away from your situation than Mr. Aro is."

He must have never been in the Army, I thought to myself. Dr. Yorkie had stopped his unbroken pacing and continued explaining what else was going to happen. The counselors name was Mr. Alec and he was going to schedule a session with him within the hour.

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**Thanks for continuing to read my jumbled mess. I'd love to hear what you think so far. Today's my birthday, for real, I've now entered my 32nd year of life. I'd love a review as a present! Thanks again.**

**Jen**


	7. Chapter 7

**I just want to thank those of you who have read and stuck with this story. Bella finds out somethings about herself in this chapter. She is much stronger than she gives herself credit for. Hope you enjoy, see you at the bottom!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, just the story line that they are currently living through! Thanks again S.M.!**

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**CHAPTER 7**

I think I've been lying in this God forsaken bed for about an hour or so. Just staring at the blank walls seems to be the best course of action to be taking at this moment. The walls are cement blocks that have been painted white. I try counting how many blocks are around me, but generally lose track and have to start over again. I used to do this over seas when I was in an uncomfortable situation. Just counting whatever came to mind like ceiling tiles, cinder blocks, vehicles, you name it. That accomplishment alone seemed to pass the time that I was looking for and kept my mind out of any undesirable locations. Alas, any possible way to keep myself awake is what I'm trying to carry out. If I fall asleep I'm scared the nightmares will return with full force. I've thought and spoken too much about my past for the dreams to quietly pass me by tonight. They over take me most nights even when I have done nothing to bring about the memories during those days.

I need to form some sort of plan of action on how to deal with Mr. Alec and his uncanny ability to make me relive every horrendous hour of my life with him. How much do I disclose to the good Doc in our session? Will he expect me to spill out every gut wrenching detail? I told Dr. Yorkie too much without a thought and without even meaning to tell him. It was if I was transported to a different time in my jumbled mind and didn't even grasp it. The darkness took me over and I was powerless to fight it even with Dr. Yorkie sitting in my room. I think rehashing everything to Mr. Alec in extreme detail is a really terrible idea. I'll try and maybe skirt around the most ghastly things and maybe, just maybe that will be enough to keep him content for the duration of my hospital stay.

Someone was knocking on my door frame stopping the mindless chatter to myself. At least I'm not answering myself out loud, still it's a little disheartening thinking of all the good conversations I've had have just played out in my mind. I sit up as the nurse ambles into my room. The room seems to brighten the closer she comes to me. It must be all the puppies and kittens on her scrubs. They must have changed shifts on me again because this was a new one.

She gave me a gentle smile that seems real enough and asks if I'm ready for my session with Mr. Alec. I'd love to know what was up with all of the smiling from everyone. It can't be that great of a place to work. There's too much sadness around, even for me in the state I'm currently residing in. I wonder if when they are hired here if they have to sign some sort of smiling agreement. Or maybe all this cheerfulness is just normal and I'm the one that's all fucked up some how.

I greet her with a timid smile of my own and let her know that I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I figure it's easier to just get this shit over with and done. Maybe something good will actually come of all this, but I doubt it. Placing my hospital issued house shoes over my hospital issued socks, I begin the slow trek to the meeting room where Mr. Alec is apparently awaiting my appearance.

Flashes of my son cross my mind. He had loved the new house shoes that Santa brought him two Christmas' ago. Jack got a fuzzy pair of bright green, frog slippers with huge dopey looking eyes. On one of the shoes, the frog's pink tongue was stuck out and it had a fly resting on it. I was so excited when I had perused fifty thousand stores looking for the perfect pair. It was such a happy time in our lives, before all of the bullshit came and destroyed everything we had built up. I shake my head willing my red, bloodshot eyes not to let the damn tears fall again. I really hope his pain is not as bad as mine is at the moment. I just pray he isn't hurting. Maybe Jake is man enough not to have told him about where I am staying. He never asked to be born into this torn up family. God, I really miss my boy.

Mr. Alec's voice brings me out of my self induced misery. I don't even know how long I have been standing stock still at his door. Hell, I don't even know how I got here to begin with, that prior walk seems so hazy. He clears his throat again and begins with the preliminary introductions. The first thing I notice about this man is that he looks so young. He couldn't be more than twenty five. Secondly, he wore the biggest smile and brightest yellow sweater I have ever seen. As he stood up to shake my hand, I realized how small this man was. He had to be several inches shorter than me with the biggest afro I have ever seen on a white boy. It had to be about ten inches, itself. This situation actually couldn't get any funnier. He was the complete opposite of the dear old asshole known as Mr. Aro.

"How are you fairing this evening, Mrs. Black?" he asked.

I smiled when I told him that my evening had been a lot better than my morning had started out. He asked me to take a seat and to get comfortable. I didn't have the heart to tell him that there was no comfort to be found in these plastic chairs and in this situation.

"I know the basics of your story Mrs. Black, may I call you Isabella?" he asked.

"No, you may not call me Isabella, but you can call me Bella," I replied. I think for a second he was shocked that I was telling him no, but then a smile washed over his face as it dawned on him what I had just said.

He chuckled and began again, "As I said before, Bella, I know your basic story, but there are some things that are missing in my time line and I need for you to fill those spaces in. To actually figure things out and for you to get the correct help that you need, I need it from you. From your mouth, not the mouth of someone who hasn't lived through it."

Again, talking, talking and more talking, hopefully I could make it through this with what's left of my heart still intact. Granted there's not much that remains complete, but still what's a girl to do with a shattered and irreparable heart?

"Where do you want me to begin, Mr. Alec?" I solemnly asked him.

He responded by encouraging me to start by addressing him as just Alec because Mr. Alec was way too formal for him. Alec wanted me to begin with how life was before my deployment. He wanted to know about my family and I'm not sure how to not get lost in the thoughts and memories of those good times. I must have been stalling and he reminded me that this was only an hour session instead of an hour and a half since I had been switched to his case load so abruptly.

Unceremoniously I began, "Well, life was good. I had a beautiful son and a gorgeous, loving husband who was my best friend. Actually, life was what you could call predictable and maybe a little too boring in some other people's eyes. To me it was damn near perfect."

I continued telling him bits and pieces of a life that now seemed like it had been all a dream. Telling him about my son was the hardest part of the discussion. I never let on to how hard it was and that my heart was breaking, yet again. Mr. Alec or Alec smiled while I told him of the love that I had held for my husband and for Jack. I even told him about what a book worm I had become. He put his hand in the air to stop me and it took me a minute to actually stop talking. I had gotten on some sort of a roll and it was nice to be talking about the good times instead of the impending bad.

"Now tell me, what happened next?" he asked.

I assumed he was asking what caused the destruction of my self professed perfect life. It took another minute or so for me to begin breathing again. This was the beginning of the end of my old life. "I received a call on a Thursday night and was told to report to my unit by the next Tuesday," I told him.

He continued looking at me. Silently urging me to continue on with the rest. Reluctantly, I filled him in with how I was the only one to receive the warning orders and then the eventual orders from my unit that told me I would be heading to Iraq with practically complete strangers. It's true that all soldiers view others mostly as their brothers and sisters in arms, but you are still strangers.

I couldn't breath, literally couldn't catch a breath as I remembered the first time I had met my girls. It had been such a rush deployment that the very few females had stuck extremely close together forming our own cohesive unit to rely on. Alec stood and retrieved me a glass of water and bent down beside me. Before I knew it, he was soothingly telling me to slow down and that nothing bad would come from talking. He assured me that it could only get better from that point on.

There that statement was again, it can only get better. Realization struck, I truly had hit rock bottom. I decided right then that full disclosure was the only way to go and the only way that I would get better. The only way that I can come up for air and to truly breathe and live again. Maybe all this talking 'in my own words', as all the professionals had called it, would help get me up and over this mountain of hurt and despair.

Slowly, gathering up enough courage, I start talking again. I tell Alec about the two weeks prior to me leaving for good. That was the last time I had seen the real me because I didn't come home whole from Iraq.

"Our son was handling it rather well, " I told him. And he really was so strong about it. I knew he was upset. I knew he was scared, but he believed that his mommy was going to be doing something special and good. He was proud. Of course him having bragging rights about how his mommy was better than other mommies at school didn't hurt, either.

"Jake was a different story, though. He took it personally, like I really wanted to be away from him for a year." I continued. He really believed that I was excited and that I had requested this deployment behind his back. I know who put that ridiculous idea into his head, my lovely sister in law, Rachel.

"We only have about fifteen or so minutes left in our session, so I want you to stop right there," he said. "But I do want you to know that you did a wonderful job tonight talking so openly with me. You need to know that you are a very strong woman despite the circumstances that have brought you here." he finished.

Alec tells me that by bringing all of this back up to the surface, it is going to hurt mentally and physically. He has no idea, but he did say that if I really try hard and put everything out there, we'll get to the root of my problems and start making things better.

At this point, what can it really hurt? I've already tried to end my life and I don't think it can get any worse than that. As we tell one another goodbye and goodnight, he gently pats me on the shoulder and I don't even flinch when he touches me. Damn, I really must have let myself become more comfortable with and around him than I meant to. That right there is definitely a sign of progress.

The same nurse met me outside of Mr. Alec's door and we began walking back to my room. She bid me goodnight and I couldn't help the small prayer that I silently said for it to actually turn out that way.

Laying in this hospital bed makes it easy to fight sleep. They're so uncomfortable anyways. I just didn't want the dreams to come hurtling back. I guess I began losing my battle with the sandman around two a.m.

It was pitch black, but the red blood against the stark white sand made it impossible not to see it. It was everywhere, dripping and pooling at my feet. It was unending, like every surface around me was beating as a heart, pumping out this never ending river of blood. There was no sign of where it was actually coming from. I started screaming for someone, anyone to come save me from this hell.

I bolted upright in my bed as the nurse came running into my room. Jumping off of the bed I barely made it to the small bathroom before emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. It's mainly bile since I haven't eaten much in the past couple of days, hell I guess it's been weeks or months, actually.

The nurse comes up behind me and again offers me a sad smile. She picks me up gently off of the cold tile floor and helps me to get cleaned up. She slowly walks me back to my bed. "The doctor has authorized a sleep aid for you if you would like to take it," she whispers.

"No mam, that's okay. I don't want to sleep walk through my session with Mr. Alec in the morning. Nothing would get accomplished if I was more of a walking zombie than I'm already portraying," I gladly offer.

I am more scared that my body would get stuck in a nightmare if I took that stuff. I'm not sure if that can actually happen, but with my luck I would be the first person it would occur to. She walked into the hall without saying goodbye. I find this odd until she is back by my bedside holding a book in her hand. "I keep this on stand by in my desk drawer. It's yours for the duration if you would like it," slyly winking at me as she handed it over.

I happily accept it and look at the cover of it as she turns to leave my room.

"I find a good romance novel can take your mind off of anything," she says as she disappears around the curtain.

I smile to myself thinking this is better than nothing. I mean truly, all these books are, are basically is soft porn as Sergeant Schoonover used to call them. Thinking about her unruly laughter makes me smile in earnest. I find myself giggling in light of everything that has just happened.

Losing myself in this book is very easy and before I knew it, there was a knock on the door frame. Dr. Yorkie stuck his face around the curtain and smiled. All these damn smiles these people give away freely! I wonder if they lose them when they get home from this dreadful place. It feels like forever that I actually had anything worth smiling about.

"I hear you had a rougher evening than we expected," he said.

"Yes sir. It is fairly normal for me, though. The dreams, the nightmares, whatever you want to call them are frequent, nightly visitors for me," I replied with a grimace on my face.

"I'd like for you to try and really open up to Mr. Alec for me today. I have a feeling about your diagnosis, but I think it would benefit you to actually get everything out in the open with him." he said. "Can you do that for me?"

"I'll really try to sir. I can't promise anything, though. I'm panicking just thinking about it." I looked at him pleadingly.

"Okay, I'll have a nurse on standby outside of his door just in case. She will be able to give you something in case of a major attack," he looked at me almost questioningly.

"I appreciate that, sir. It makes me feel slightly better," with this I truly smiled at him this time.

He told me he was on his way and that breakfast should be arriving shortly. We both gave a light chuckle about the breakfast part. Of course, he was right. About fifteen minutes after he left my room the tray of death was placed right in front of my nose. I found myself staring longingly at the toast just wishing, hoping for a bodily reaction.

It came, it really did, this gave me the first thing to smile about in over a year. My stomach growled so loud that you could hear it in the halls. That was the first time it had happened in months. So I ate my toast and drank my orange juice. Maybe today I will feel like a lucky one, who knows, it was already a good start to another day.

Walking into Mr. Alec's office, I realized something peculiar. He really does like his bright colors. Today he had an energetic lime green sweater across his small frame and I had to giggle to myself. "Good morning to you, too," he chuckled as he spoke. "How was your night?" he followed up.

I know someone has probably already informed him of what had happened so there's no point in dragging out the inevitable of having to tell him the truth.

"It was normal, well, normal for me at least. This dream doesn't come very often, but when it does I almost always get sick." I answer him almost in a monotone voice that I don't really recognize as my own.

He asked me if it was a true physical sickness and I can't help but smile across the table at him. I know that mentally there is something wrong, but I wouldn't call it sickness. I guess it just be a culmination of complete bullshit.

"What are laughing to yourself about over there? Care to share your thoughts with me?" he asks trying to contain his impending smile.

"Well, Mr. Alec, I was just trying to come up with a term that I think describes my sickness, per se. I think it should be called Bullshit Culmination." I answer him.

He laughed a hearty, full bodied laugh that seemed to shake every part of his small stature. Then his face turned very serious. The seriousness took me by surprise and I shrank back into my chair as far as it would allow me to go. Mr. Alec began telling me that certain things that have happened to me over the course of the years have led to the life that I am currently trapped in.

"So talk to me. Tell me about the first few months or even weeks of your deployment," he said.

I physically shuddered when thinking about having to essentially put into words about what went on over there. Before I was able to begin speaking out loud he threw something else out there to me. "This is going to be hard, understand this. It won't be easy, but I know that you are strong enough to get through this activity. There will be tears, there will be silence and there could possibly be anger. Don't' let these feelings discourage you from talking openly to me." he said.

He was right, I could do this, but it may take me awhile to get through all of it. And so I began retelling the harsh reality that was my time in the desert. I began with the day that we were attacked in the first week we were on the grounds. Luckily we had "inherited" a completely set up and functioning hospital to work from. The out going unit lost three of their men that day to some lucky shots from the enemies so called snipers. They had only two days to go before they were to head back on their trip to the states. I told him about holding an eighteen year old Private's hand as he painfully bled to death from a gut shot that we couldn't get a hold of the intense bleeding before we could get him back and into the hospital to try and save him. I told him this through a huge amount of tears and at one moment I was sobbing to the point that I couldn't even speak, let alone breath. I sucked it up and drove on as one particular Drill Sergeant that I had the unusual blessing of having lead me always used to say.

I continued on and told him of the unrest that lied beyond our compound's boundaries. All the different languages that the threats were spoken in, the nightly attacks that never really reached us inside those walls and the physical attacks that occurred inside our walls. With there being so few females where we were, we knew that sexual assault a huge possibility, but it was never spoken of out loud. I only know what had happened to me and me alone. If only my girls were here to tell their own personal stories, too. Would they have been as fucked up in the head as I am?

I told him of the child that we ran over in our Humvee. How that little brown haired boy had ran out into the dusty road to retrieve the shoe that his sister had dropped while his sister and mother stood on the side of the road begging our convoy to stop rolling by. We never once hit our breaks to attempt to stop. Our Colonel had ordered us to keep moving on since it was such a dangerous area of town and I hate to think what that mother found on the road after we had all gone through. This incident had actually led to the first of the nightmares that plagued me. The face of that dead child and those of his sister and mother haunted me while over there and they still show up on occasion, but they aren't as frequent because there's new dreams all mixed in to share it's time running through my mind. All of them did the same thing to me by shutting me down, but at the same time they were all different in their horrendous replaying scenes.

It really hadn't occurred to me how hard I was crying at this point. I was completely oblivious to the fact that Alec was even still with me in the room. I felt my breathing hitch and my upper body compress. My heart was pounding so hard inside of my chest and I couldn't get it to slow down it's thumping cadence. I realized that I had started pacing Mr. Alec's office at an alarming rate while the elephant was trying his damndest to crush my chest. My breaths were coming in short, choppy spurts and I was beginning to feel the dizziness take over my muddled mind. It could have only been twenty seconds since it began, but it felt like hours had gone by. I grabbed Mr. Alec's desk and stared him in the eyes.

My eyes brimming with unshed tears, "I need help." I pushed past the constriction around my heart and whispered this so lowly to him that I don't know if he even heard me correctly. This sentence alone could sum up my entire pathetic existence. I did need help and then and there I finally had succumbed to that thought. Mr. Alec grabbed my hands and pulled gently getting me to look at his face again. "Mrs. Black, Bella, you need to calm down and get in control. I'm here to help you and we will get through this first part together. Just look at me and breathe right along with me. Breath for breath."

I watched his chest rise and fall while trying to time my intake with his. Eventually clarity crept back into my mind and body slowly but surely again. "That's it Bella. You're doing so great. You are going to be just fine," he said all the while still grasping at my trembling hands.

There was a battle raging inside of my mind. So many emotions. Fear, anger that I turned out like this, sadness for so many things and on that I hadn't felt in so long that I almost didn't recognize it. Hope. It was small, but it was there mangled in with the rest of them. I gradually returned to my battered and torn seat and anxiously looked up to Mr. Alec because I was scared of what I would find on his face. Surprising me yet again, he was wearing a small smile across his thin lips. "You did wonderful. More than wonderful, you were incredible. Your strength is what got you through this session and your panic attack." he said.

He stopped talking for just a moment and I put my head down and began staring at the floor as if it had the answers that my life depended on. Mr. Alec decided that our session had come to a good stopping point and asked me how I felt about it. I tried to lighten the atmosphere by being sarcastic and jokingly said, "I guess I now see how truly fucked up I am."

Alec wasn't happy with this statement and I saw disappointment flash across his eyes briefly before they cleared up again. He was waiting on a straight and serious answer. I mean, what the hell do I say to this? How did I really feel about everything that I had willingly and unwillingly disclosed to him?

"Well, first, I don't think I have ever told anyone about what happened over there, not all of it. I didn't even tell my ex husband everything," I told him. I continued, "I really don't know how I should feel. Relieved, sad, angry, I guess I could even say a little bit hopeful."

Mr. Alec smiled and told me that having hope and faith were two of the most important things for me to keep in mind through whatever my treatment will bring to me. He told me to hope for better days and to have faith in myself to make me realize that I am not as bad a person as I believe myself to be. Forgiving myself will be the first step on the long road that lies ahead.

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**Okay, so I'll beg again, someone, anyone please let me know what you think about this story. Is it worth continuing or should I just boot it? Hopefully I'll have another chapter ready in the next few days. I know these chapters are short, but they seem to be good stopping places. Thanks again for reading!**

**Jen**


	8. Chapter 8

**We all know the drill. I don't own them but I enjoy playing with them tremendously! Thanks to S.M. for originally creating!**

* * *

As I stood as gracefully as I could possibly manage from the broken down chair to try and walk myself out of Mr. Alec's office, he offered me a hug. I gladly accepted his kindness. He did not push it onto me and I felt as if I somehow deserved this hug from him. For the first time in awhile, I walked down the hall with the nurse towards my room with my head held up high. I essentially walked right beside the nurse as if I belonged there instead of a few paces directly behind her. For so long I've carried the feeling of not being enough. Not being a good enough soldier, not being a good enough friend, not being a good enough wife or mother, mainly not good enough to be in anyone's life. It felt good to walk with her not as her equal, but just as a human being in general.

When we arrived to the open door of my room she informed me that lunch would arrive soon and that Dr. Yorkie would be in eventually this evening to touch base with me. I was so mentally wasted and physically drained by the time I finished walking back that I could barely cross the threshold into my room. All I wanted was my bed. Whenever I revisited my living nightmares my body practically shut itself down on me. Then add to that a panic attack on top of it and I felt like I had just completed and ran a hundred mile ultra marathon.

Staring at the ceiling seemed to be the best way to pass what was left of my stay there. I really didn't want to think about what had happened in Mr. Alec's office no matter how promising of a start it was. I really didn't want to jinx whatever that feeling of hope had created. I'm not sure if I dozed off or if I just zoned out, but my lunch tray is now sitting beside of me. I wonder if the nice lady, Sue, who usually brings the trays up had tried to wake me or not, I'm just thankful that my nightmares didn't find me again during that time. I decided it was time to get up and shower after I choked down part of this meal. Thank God for lime Jello and soup. It's still the only thing on this tray that's halfway appetizing.

While walking into the bathroom for my hopefully relaxing shower, I noticed that I had no soap or shampoo so I shuffled across the cold tile floor of my room to ask the nurse if they had any available. Thankfully it was the same one who gave me that book yesterday. Nurses around here certainly put in the hours. There was never many Psych Nurses in the military and I guess it's the same way on the civilian side. I wonder if it's harder dealing with mental issues rather than putting people back together physically. At least with the physical damage you really know where you stand and what needs to be done to help someone. With mental issues, not so much. She bent down into her cabinet hiding spot and pulled out what looked like mini bottles of Bath and Body Works or something of the sort. "Now you can't tell anyone where I keep these. I just think they may brighten up your day a little." she said as she motherly patted me on the shoulder.

I thanked her profusely and graciously took them from her. A smile plastered across my face as I began to basically skip back to my room like a child. I noticed that these were the same scent that I used to use, back in a different time for me. Lime Coconut, it always made me think of being on vacation at the beach in the tropics somewhere. Not that I had been on many vacations before since I lived on the beach at La Push and Jake always said that there was no reason to go visit another beach, but I always used to dream of what the air would smell like in the Bahamas or Cancun. Somewhere where the temperature in the air was warm, the sand was soft and white, and you didn't have to wear a sweater to walk down the beach. Now that I am fully stocked in the awesomeness of these soaps I am really looking forward to this shower. Apparently I can't shut the door to the bathroom since there isn't one on the naked hinges, but at this point I could give a rat's ass.

After being in the military where you sometimes had to shower with ten other women and after having my son, I am pretty damn comfortable in my own skin. You lose any and all sense of modesty after delivering a child. Your girly parts are all out on display for the whole wide world to see. I remember the first shower I had to take in basic training. The female drill sergeant yelled at us that we only had 3 minutes for our shower and that we were only to wash the parts on our bodies "that really fucking stunk". I was in awe at the fact there were 8 shower heads and thirty females. I didn't have time to think of what I was doing and just stripped down and jumped under one of the shower heads. As far as having a child, apparently I was blessed to have the whole fucking nursing school in my room when I delivered. To make it worse, Jake decided to sit with the doctor at the end of the bed and left me to ride out the pain of natural child birth alone. I could have killed him for that mistake. Those experiences definitely made me unconcerned with taking this shower with an open door.

I began getting undressed and comprehend that there was a full length mirror on the wall. I was shocked by what I saw looking back at me. I knew I had lost weight, but I never thought it was this appalling. Bones were visible everywhere, my hips, my clavicle, knees, ankles, everywhere. Where there used to be shapely, athletic legs, they were now replaced by what looked like pale white tooth picks. The one thing I saw, though, was the look that was held in my big, chocolate eyes. They no longer looked dead or blank. I think the specks of gold that used to shimmer in them had returned. So maybe hope does look good on me. It was definitely something to think about.

I climbed into the shower with my newly acquired soaps and conditioner and set out to wash away the pain of the morning. More like I was washing away the pain of the last few years. It really had been a good day with Mr. Alec and I think I already feel more comfortable talking to him than I have with anyone else. My mom and dad choose to ignore what has happened and barely call me anymore. When they do, it's just a quick hello and an even quicker goodbye. You would think that when your only child is going through something so horrendous in life that you would be there no matter how you felt about how she got into the situation. Not my parents. Charlie ignores it by fishing everyday and Renee just ignores me.

Going through the time consuming task of shampooing and conditioning my longer than normal hair proved to be cathartic. It's been too long since I've taken the time to do this. Generally I quickly wash and rinse and throw it up into a shit ball on my head. My zoned out state lasts until the final drops of the water run frigidly cold. I get out and dry off, pulling my hair back into a messy bun on the top of my head. Looking back into the mirror I see it again. That shimmering in my eyes and I find that I like it. I like it a lot. It's definitely appreciated much more than being numb. Jake used to always say that he noticed my eyes first when he originally met me at the ripe age of four. Then of course the story continues that my eyes were so big that they were the only things that could be seen on my tiny body for a five mile radius. He was always the jokester when he was happy. In the end we never joked with one another anymore. I wonder why it takes so long for a couple who know each other inside and out to notice that their love for one another had fizzled out years before. It took us way too long and that ruined our once impenetrable friendship.

Waiting on Dr. Yorkie didn't prove to take too long after I had gotten finished with my invigorating shower. He whisked into my room like a ghost, quietly taking note of the book that I was currently reading. "It seems the good nurse, Mallory, got to you." he says while eyeing the book.

We go through the formalities of the day and he reminds me that I will be leaving this hospital tomorrow night. He has scheduled for Rose to come pick me up since she is listed as my next of kin for this stay. My parents might of left me here if they had been listed. I know Jake would have and then he would have used that against me for keeping our son away from me for good. Dr. Yorkie explains to me what the next day would entail, a final meeting with Mr. Alec and a longer visit with himself to discuss my treatment options for once I was completely free from this hospital. The panic hit me so quickly that I didn't have time to prepare myself for the onslaught. The constricting of the chest, that damn elephant that wouldn't leave me alone and let me breathe, the sweaty palms, dizziness and the dreadful nausea overtook me completely.

Dr. Yorkie took notice of what was happening to me yet again and called for my nurse to bring something in. A shot of some sort, I really didn't understand him and what he was saying because my heart was currently trying to jump out of my thumping chest. He made me lie down on my bed while Mallory gave me a shot of a wonderful and I mean wonderful drug. Within seconds, okay maybe minutes, the anxiety had melted away. It was hazy now, but I was breathing and still alive. After all this work on keeping me alive, wouldn't it be ironic to die of a heart attack brought on by a panic attack? Yeah, I thought so, too. Great, now I'm talking to myself and answering my own thoughts. How much crazier can I get?

I saw Mallory leave out of the corner of my eye and Dr. Yorkie moved towards my bed in what seemed like slow motion. Damn, this medicine works really well. "How are you feeling now, Isabella?" he asked. Dr. Yorkie still seemed like he was really far away.

"I can breathe now, that's a good thing, right?" I answered. It was as if my brain had fully separated from my body. My mouth felt like it was speaking of its own accord.

"You're right, that is a very good thing. We want to keep it that way." he stated while trying to keep from laughing out loud. "If I may ask, what brought on your anxiety right then?"

I thought about his question and there was only one thing that came to mind that was already causing my heart rate to spike again. I was going home or at least to the place that I had been sleeping. It wasn't really anything close to what I would consider home. Home would be where you were loved and love definitely didn't reside there.

"Home. I'm scared of going to my current home." I told him. This was as honest as I could get and that scared me even more.

"Well that's understandable considering what has happened in the past couple of days. You might want to bring that up with Mr. Alec in the morning at your session." he told me. "Oh, you may also like to know that Mr. Aro was let go from the hospital last night due to his behavior to not only you, but to several other patients that have came forward."

I smiled at the thought. "Thanks for telling me Dr. Yorkie."

"It seems as if Mr. Alec has been a much better match for you, anyway. Again, just thought that you might like to know." he chuckled.

He continued talking but I was back into the zone. I know he told me to rest for the remainder of the evening and that dinner would again be coming soon. We had a big day of decisions ahead of us tomorrow and he was preparing me for it. I wish I could pay more attention what he was saying, but I am too damn loopy to care.

"Dr. Yorkie, I did want to thank you for something," and the verbal diarrhea began again. I told him thanks for getting me to talk and about the little sliver of hope that I was grasping onto for dear life. For once in two years I finally felt refreshed and I thanked him profusely for that, too. He took it all in stride and gave me that smile of his that seemed to put me at ease. He didn't try to touch me tonight, but instead patted the bed beside me before he left. Boy, that doc sure learns quickly.

I must have dozed off as soon as he walked out of my door because I even slept through dinner. When I awoke, it was in a groggy state of confusion. Quickly I jumped from the bed and about knocked over the unsuspecting food that sat beside me. I slowly found my bearings and slammed the watery tea down my dry, aching throat. That was one of the downsides to taking medication like that. I always woke with a sore throat of some sort. There was nothing that I found appealing on the tray so I pushed it to the door before climbing back into bed. I was astonished at the fact that I had not dreamed, good or bad, while I had been asleep. My borrowed book peered at me through the corner of my eye and I figured I could kill some time by becoming even more sexually frustrated than I already was. Hell, I hadn't thought about sex in so long that it didn't even occur to me that reading a seedy, cheap, romance novel would bring some of those feelings back. I think I read about three pages before I went to sleep again. Apparently, this time it was for the night.

The sun was barely peeking through my one window when I awoke again. As soon as I wiped the sleep from my eyes and sat up I realized that I didn't wake up at all during the night. No dreams, no nightmares, again. This was an accomplishment of sorts and I couldn't wait to tell Dr. Yorkie and Mr. Alec. I tried to think back into the night and still nothing came to mind.

Mr. Alec had recommended at the end of yesterday's session that starting a journal would be a good thing for me. He pulled out a plain, leather bound book and handed it over to me before I left his office. I guess there's really no time like the present to begin writing, all in the name of therapy, I suppose.

I've been sitting here holding my pen in my hand for about twenty minutes and the only thing on my paper is the date. I mean what do you say? How do you address this type of thing? Dear Diary? Stupid Asshole? What the fuck do you put down here?

I could probably go about writing every one of my girls and fill this damn thing up. I think I could handle that since there is so much that I never got to say. I'll start with Karen today, she'd find joy in the fact that I didn't dream last night at all. She and I had similar nightmares and would stay up with each other through the night just so we wouldn't have to visit them alone. We jokingly called ourselves the 'dream team'. It was cheesy at best, but we needed cheesy over there. I began to write just addressing it to Karen. It wasn't much, but I figured it was a start.

_**January 11, 2011**_

_**Psych Ward somewhere in Seattle**_

_**Karen,**_

_**I know this really seems silly at the moment, but it's apparently part of my ongoing therapy. One day I'll tell you everything that's happened since I came home without you. I just wanted to tell you that I had no dreams at all last night. Can you believe it? It's the first night in a long time that I slept the entire time without seeing anything at all. I did want to ask that if you ever do decide to visit me again in a dream, try and do so with your full body because I'm not really sure I could handle talking to you again looking like you did. You helped me that night. I know it wasn't real or hell maybe it was, but you said things that I needed to hear. You'll never know how much I loved having you and the rest of the girls in my life for the short time that I did. I'll never be able to thank you fully for all the things that you did for me to keep me sane over there. I hope that you, Schoonover and Shannon are all together wherever keeping the nightly talks continuing on. God I miss you guys. That's about all I have for you right now, but I'll try this again sometime soon. Miss you Captain Pentley.**_

_**Bella**_

Okay, so that went about as well as could be expected. I went over to the desk to get a tissue to try and blot my face dry. I'm sure that will work out well. On the plus side there was no anxiety, no panic coursing through me while I was writing this. Well, maybe a little sweating, but otherwise unharmed. I guess I'll have to try this again. It can't be that bad, right?

I decided to put my book away and lay in bed for a little while longer. Staring at the ceiling yet again was getting very old, very quickly so I decided to get up and do my hospital morning routine. Shuffling across the floor to the bathroom, I couldn't help but notice that the door to my room had been halfway shut. I smirked thinking to myself that this was another good start to the upcoming day. Flying through brushing my hair and teeth was easy. I went and sat in Dr. Yorkie's chair awaiting the arrival of the cardboard breakfast that I knew was on its way.

Breakfast passed without incident and the new nurse on shift came in to check on me. She told me that we'd be going down to Mr. Alec's office in an hour and to be ready for her when she returned. An hour? How am I going to get through this damn hour? I was so ready to go that I briefly held the image of me spontaneously combusting mid pace.

Unbeknownst to me, the hour flew by at a rather alarming rate. The nurse was knocking on my half closed door before I even realized that it was that time of the day. Well, here we go, one last meeting with Mr. Alec before I could leave. The anticipation was killing me, but at least I no longer was thinking of killing me.

I believe I hummed the entire way down the hall to Mr. Alec's office. Several nurses turned to stare, I probably shouldn't have been this happy on the psych floor unless I had multiple personalities. I guess that's a possibility, something to think about. I'll be asking Mr. Alec about that one. Finding him in his office in just a normal t-shirt and running pants was quite the surprise. I had been banking on a bright sweater of some sort. This may be just because it's the weekend or something for this drab version of Mr. Alec. Or he could just be hung over, just a possibility.

He raised his head and smiled as I practically glided through the door, that's a good sign, I guess. As I took my seat across from him I realized he was reading what looked to be my file from the hospital. My mind drifted to the other medical files of mine, especially the one with the VA. It was so thick that they kept it closed with a rubber band. They should have taken the time to split it down, but I guess when there are so many fucked up veterans, there really is no spare time. Mr. Alec brought me back to the present when he asked how I was feeling today.

"I'm doing pretty well as far as the situation I'm in goes," I answered him.

"Well, you're in here for your final meeting with me to discuss your possible therapy options for the future, when you break out of this joint this afternoon," he said.

Thinking about therapy outside of this place scared the shit out of me. I didn't have the money or the health insurance to pay for private therapy, so I guess its back to the VA, again. I think that's the part that scared me the most. We jumped into the conversation and threw some ideas back and forth between one another. He really liked the idea of some form of group therapy along with my private sessions. I had learned my lesson with groups after I returned, too many men and too few women. It was as bad as Mr. Aro. I agreed to it because if he thought it could help me then I guess it was well worth it. My mind wandered and I began to actually take in my surroundings. Most of the time therapists would have at least one or two pictures in their offices and I noticed that Mr. Alec's was completely bare except for two diplomas hung on the farthest wall. Hell, he didn't even have a plant. I wander what that says about him? He is such a bright spot on this floor and his office didn't really reflect that part of his personality at all.

"Bell-aa, earth to Bella. Where did you go on me?" he playfully asked.

I shook my head back to reality and laughed at the look on his face. "Sorry, my thoughts were on what I'm going to eat when I bust out of this joint," I said through a chuckle.

"Don't worry, we're almost done here. Then you can get some real food. I just want you to know that you can call me if things ever get too tough for you, again. Here's my card with all of my numbers and I do truthfully answer my phone," he said.

"That's good to know," I answered candidly. "But, I do want you to know that I appreciate this. All of this." I said while waving my hands haphazardly through the air. "Even though I've thoroughly enjoyed your company the past few days, I really don't hope to see you soon, or really, ever again!"

He took my hand and shook it and eventually pulled me into a hug. Damn, he was still such a tiny, little man. I wonder what his parents looked like. I walked out of his office and I didn't look back. Arriving in my room, I found Dr. Yorkie lingering around my door.

"Hello Bella. I need to talk to you for just a moment and then that lovely woman over there can take you home," Dr. Yorkie said while pointing to Rose.

I walked in and took a seat on my bed. It was exciting to know that Rose was out in the waiting room. My leg was shaking up and down and I began working my lip over with my teeth yet again. "It's nothing bad, Bella, don't be nervous," Dr. Yorkie said while patting me gently on my hand.

I'm not sure what was making me so nervous, if it was actually going home, hearing what the hell was wrong with me or if it was just life in general that was nerve wracking. Definitely would love to have a smoke right about now. It had actually been 72 hours without nicotine and I hadn't even noticed it. Guess that happens when you're half crazy. I do hope that I won't go back to smoking again, but it may be my only coping method that I'll have because I won't be drinking much anymore, well take that back, I know I'm not an alcoholic so I'm not going to cut out all drinking, hell if I could have stomached food at the time I would have eaten instead of drinking my dinner. I definitely think I'm going to get my ass into gear and start running again. Okay, hold up, I'm getting way ahead of myself here. Dr. Yorkie again gains my attention after gently clearing his throat.

"Now, Bella, I know we've barely touched on everything that you've been through, but I've come to a couple of conclusions as to how you've ended up here in my care," he says to me.

I nod my head telling him that I understand and he continues. "We're definitely able to diagnose you with PTSD, being a soldier and what situations that has placed you into, if you don't have an understanding of what I'm talking about, please stop me and I'll explain."

"I know what PTSD is unfortunately, Dr. Yorkie. I was diagnosed with it prior to arriving back home, but my VA hospital told me I was just fine because I'm a woman. But that's a story for a different day," I concluded.

He went on to explain that he would finally suggest for me to see a private therapist that's not affiliated with the VA or military in anyway. Dr. Yorkie said that he had few friends on the outside that would be willing to help me out on the not having insurance front. So that would not be a problem. He also wanted me to find a group therapy later on that dealt primarily with grief. I knew I hadn't grieved for everyone I lost over seas and those include the ones that I couldn't save before we were attacked. I really didn't realize that it continued to cause some of my problems. He gave me a name for it having something to do with survivor's guilt.

"Are you okay with following the plans that we just discussed, Bella?" Dr. Yorkie asked.

I agreed to do what he had said even though I ended up telling him how scared I really was about the prospect of having to open up completely to someone new. He came over to give me a hug and hesitated before touching me. I jumped off the bed and gave the first hug that I had personally given to a man in a very long time. It definitely surprised me and shocked him even more. He looked like he was frozen in space with his mouth gaped open.

Dr. Yorkie quickly recovered and gave me the heart warming smile that I loved from the first time that I had met him. He told me to wait because I had to sign some release forms with the nurse and then I'd be free to leave with Rose. After waiting fifteen minutes for the nurse to come in and ten more of filling out and signing paperwork, I was leaving with Rose on the elevator and I was scared shitless.

She realized that I was trembling and put her arm around me. "What's wrong with you, sweetie? Aren't you happy to be getting out of her?" Rose asked me sincerely.

"Yeah, I guess I am, but where do I go now? I truthfully don't want to go through this again," I responded.

"Well, this is all I'm going to say about this, if you try to do it again and aren't successful, I'll kill you myself!" she said.

Rose was never one to keep what she felt inside. I feigned hurt and shock while she started to giggle. I grabbed her tall frame fiercely and hugged her with everything that I had in me. My head only reached the top of her shoulders since she was in heels that I would probably kill myself off in and she gently kissed my temple.

"I'm serious, though, Bella. If you get to feeling whatever it was that drove you to this, you call me or Alice. We'll be right there," she said while wiping away stray tears off her flawless face.

I couldn't help the tears from raining down my own features. Not once has anyone loved me the way Rose and Alice do without judgment. Not my parents and definitely not Jake.

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**A/N: Well here I am again begging for someone just to review. I just want to know what people think, if the story is even worth continuining or not. I hope you all are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying the writing process. The story should start flowing more and shortly we'll be introduced to Alice, Edward, Emmett and Jasper. Please bear with me and let me know how you all feel about it! Thanks again for taking time to read!**

**Jen**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry it's taken me a bit to get an update up. I just want to say thank you before hand about the response that this story is receiving. It definitely makes me want to continue writing and going with it. Without further ado, we are getting closer and closer to Bella and Edward's meeting. So here goes.**

**DISCLAIMER: I Do NOT own Twilight or it's characters, I just like giving Bella PTSD and a gun. Anyway, thanks again S.M. for letting me play!**

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**Chapter 9**

Rose and I quietly stepped out of the elevator hand in hand. I couldn't wait to get started going forward with my life and never looking back on the disaster it had become. After finding Rose's Crimson Red, BMW 1 Series 135i Convertible, we were on our way. This car always seemed pretentious when you just stared at its beauty, but when Rose was driving it, it just looked perfect. Like Rose, if you didn't know her, you wouldn't approach her thinking that she could end up your best girlfriend. She's one of those that her beauty hinders anyone to really take the time to get to know the real "her". The trip only takes about 15 minutes from my apartment to the hospital on a particularly busy Seattle day and with the way that she drove, it wouldn't take that long at all, probably, well as long as she didn't kill us both before we got there. Rose looked at me and started to grin. She was already up to trouble and we hadn't even made it home, yet. I knew that grin. It was the one that she had used on me hundreds of times before to talk me into something or another with her and Alice. And damn her if it didn't always work.

Before I knew what was going on she was pulling into my favorite burger joint, Five Guys Burgers and Fries. This place was the best. It only served a few items, but that was all I was ever looking for. When I go for a burger, I don't want a damn salad and this place just had burgers and the best $6.00 hot dog around. It was basic and plain, kind of fitting for me. I didn't mind paying a little more money for something that I knew was going to be good no matter how I got it. Unlike some other chain burger joints, this place had real burger and actually took the time to patty them out themselves. In this day and age, that was amazing to me. I was so fucking hungry and excited that I was bouncing up and down in my seat like Alice would do if an expense free shopping excursion was dangled in front of her. Hell, she bounces up and down knowing she's going to have to pay for everything, anyways.

"Oh shit, Rose! You are the freaking best!" I told her as she pulled in. I was just so excited that I couldn't hide my incessant giggling.

"I figured after not eating much over the past few days that you would want something good and greasy. At least it may put some of your weight back on, chicken legs!" she said while trying to stifle her laugh.

I couldn't believe she had just called me chicken legs. She was right, though and this was definitely greasy comfort food. Nothing beats Five Guys. I started looking for my purse and realized that it had no money in it. "Rose we can't stop, I don't have any cash on me," I said as the sadness starting seeping in. I really wanted a damn cheeseburger.

"Honey, don't worry about it. If it bothers you that much, you can just pay me back later, okay?" she said while patting my hand.

I reluctantly agreed, but I would pay her back. After we pulled through and ordered, I was now the proud owner of one of their Cheeseburgers with all the fixings, a Large Cajun Fry and a Large Coke. There's nothing better than a fountain Coke from here. It always seemed to hit the spot, my favorite times to get one of these God sends was when I was hungover or just really freaking thirsty. It was one of the things I missed while I was away. They just couldn't seem to get cheeseburgers right at chow, it was like eating cardboard. I was smiling from ear to ear and Rose just sat and chuckled when she was peeling out of the restaurant on our way to my place.

After about 10 minutes of a comfortable, contemplative silence we pulled up in front of my apartment. Looking up from the passenger side of the car I realized how dark and dank my apartment building was. I mean it's the only thing that I could afford on my own, but it really was quite creepy looking from the outside in. The entire apartment complex needed new paint, as the current was peeling off in sheets, some of the outside windows were broken and were only hanging on by duct tape and the neighborhood really wasn't the best. There were people sitting on every corner that I really wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley at night. Before my excursion to the hospital, I never would have thought about the safety of my life by living here, but now I really know how unsafe this place is. The first order of business is going to be finding a job of some sort. Then maybe, just maybe along with my VA check that I receive I'll be able to afford something a little nicer, maybe something a little closer to Rose and Alice's place. I know that they don't have room for me in their condo, but it would be nice to live somewhere closer to them just in case I really needed them one night. One thing I've learned about myself is that I have two wonderful girlfriends that I need to start taking help from. I just hate feeling helpless and having to ask for anything. I've always been stubborn, but that stubbornness almost ended up deadly for me, twice. Once by someone else's hands and once by my own. So from now on, I'm going to accept help. Maybe not with a smile, but I won't be complaining. Quickly returning to reality from my thoughts, I turned to hug Rose and to thank her for everything. She really has gone out of her way for me this time. I can't ever let that happen again. Even though she would never "not" help me out, but I don't want to run her off by my never ending neediness.

"Do you want me to come up with you to get you situated in there?" she asked.

"You've done so much already for me Rose. I'll be fine. I'm just going to relax for the afternoon and maybe read or something. You know how I am about my books. I may even write in my journal for a bit. Don't worry about it," I replied with a small smile.

"Well at least text me later to let me know how you're holding up in there sweetie, okay?" she questioned.

I knew she wouldn't try to handle me with kid gloves, but this was just her way of showing that she cared. I grabbed what little I had with me including my bag of goodies from Five Guys and began to get out of the car. Making my way over to my stoop to settle in, Rose rolled the window down and yelled to me, "Bella, how about you come over for dinner tonight with Alice and I? I'm sure she'd love to see you." She said as a devious smile graced her beautiful face.

"That would be great since I'm sure there's nothing worth mentioning to eat inside this place." I replied turning my nose up as I did. She was up to something, but I was too tired and hungry to try and figure it out. I learned long ago that it was just easier to go with the flow around Alice and Rose. Alice just had to look at you and you would probably commit a Federal crime if she asked you to. It was hard enough to say no to incredible need to shop. I really don't know how she afforded everything she purchased on a Kindergarten teacher's salary. I'll have to remind myself to ask her that one day after a few drinks on her part.

"Great, be at our place around, say 7:00," she said.

I told her I'd be there with bells on and waved goodbye to her as she peeled off the curb. Rose will never change how she feels about her "orgasm on wheels" fetish. She would never drive a mini van if she ever had a chance to have kids. If she did, it would probably be suped up to go from 0 to 60 in 2.0 seconds knowing her. I slowly took in my surroundings and walked over to my stoop. Sitting down I noticed that today was a rare day for Seattle. No rain in sight and only the warming sun shining down on my face. Thinking over everything that has happened to me in the past 72 hours of my life, it kind of reminded me of today's weather. It was stormy in the beginning, but it was transforming into something completely beautiful. Maybe God is trying to tell me something. I need to keep going to see how my life continues on. I can't give up again and no matter how hard something is or how upsetting something becomes, I know that I have two great friends that will see me through and possibly tell me to grow the fuck up.

My Five Guys was staring up at me from its place on the stairs. I grabbed my cup and took a long draw of my near orgasmic Coke. Yeah I know, right now I just have an orgasm fetish. It's been too damn long since that's even registered on my girly bits' radar, but now all I can think about is how much I miss the big "O". I reached in to grab my burger and fries and found that eating outside was quite peaceful. It really was a beautiful day out today with the light breeze blowing and the sun shining down. Looking around my apartment building was like seeing things through new eyes. Instead of seeing the seedy neighborhood and its inhabitants, I saw where I wanted to be in the future. The near future. I definitely was not going to be living here much longer. There would be no problem getting out of my lease since we only had to sign for 3 to 6 months at a time. That's how bad this place was. Damn this burger was good, way better than the Jell-o at the hospital.

I was done eating about five minutes later since I inhaled everything I had. Cleaning up the trash I noticed that all of my cigarette butts were still lying on the ground in a jumbled pile. Deciding to sweep away the shit that was my life just 72 hours ago, I went in search of a broom and a dust pan. Walking up into the landing to the apartment proved to be quite the success for me. Mr. Alec would be so proud to see me doing this. Every step that I took toward my apartment door my chest constricted and ached. It was consistent panic that I couldn't break free from. I wasn't sure what I was going to find behind the busted up door panel. I could see where the medics had to break into the apartment door to get to me and I saw where the landlord attempted to fix it back without having to spend any money. I sat down about mid way up the stairs and started some of my breathing exercises that Mr. Alec had taught me. I found that the one that worked the best made me look like a complete idiot, but who could argue with success? I pushed my lower abdomen out and began taking deep breaths. A few minutes later and I was breathing normally again and I wasn't completely on edge anymore. I stood to complete the remaining flight of stairs and made it without another constriction from my fickle chest. After unlocking all three locks, I gingerly pushed the door back afraid that it make crumble in my hands and my hand quickly found my slack jawed mouth. Knowing what's going to be behind a door and seeing it for yourself are completely different. I was in such a shock that I fell to my knees and started sobbing uncontrollably. It's not that the place was a mess; it was just the visible evidence of what I had almost accomplished three, long, unbelievable nights ago. While trying to wipe away all the snot and tears so I could see, I began to crawl across my floor collecting the empty Vodka bottles and the empty pill bottle and I realized that this was the wake up call that I needed. Not only was this mess proof of what I had almost done, it was also proof of what positive actions I had completed over the past 72 hours with everyone's help. I was going to make it, the road was going to be long, tough and definitely bumpy, but I would make it through. There were people behind me cheering me on and they would be there when I would undoubtedly break down again, but the actions I took that dreadful night would never happen again.

Cleaning up the mess that was my kitchen and living room worked to cement the feeling of hope that was continuing to grow inside of my chest. I walked by my phone and noticed that I had no missed phone calls and no new messages. I wonder if Charlie and Renee even knew what had happened. I'm pretty sure that Jake didn't, thank God. It was 4:00 already and I was freaking exhausted. I crawled up on the couch and covered myself in my quilt that Grandma Swan had made for me when I was in high school. She always said that you could never have enough items that were made for you with love. She some time before graduation and I've never been without my quilt. Although, throughout training, I had to hide it in my wall locker, but it was there letting me know that someone cared. I found my cell phone and set my alarm for 6:00 just in case I fell out. I had told Rose I'd be there at 7:00 and I really didn't want to be late. It only takes about 20 minutes to get across town to where they live so I'd be fine. It didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would to succumb to sleep. I relived the past few days in my mind until I could think no more.

Waking with a start due to the stupid alarm on my phone, I fell off of the couch tangled up in my quilt. "Fucking shit! It never fucking fails that I do something stupid!" I yelled at any piece of furniture that would listen.

I stretched out my limbs trying to wake them up a bit before I tried to stand up again. My body couldn't handle another fall to the hardwood floor. It's a wonder I didn't crack my head open on the coffee table or something. I put my head on my knees for a bit to stretch out my aching back. I'm too young to be having all of these aches and pains. While sitting there I notice that I was still in my dirty clothes from the hospital so I got up off of the floor and headed into my bedroom to change clothes. Luckily I had actually had the brain to do my laundry before all this shit happened. I found my favorite pair of old boot cut jeans and my black Rolling Stones t-shirt that I loved. Looking under my bed for my hoodie, I located my beat up, black converse shoes that Rose and Alice hated, but they had never talked me into getting rid of them. I walked into the bathroom with my goodies and started undressing to change. I glanced in the mirror and noticed that my once sallow skin was starting to look just a little bit better. I still needed to put on about ten more pounds, but I think I was on my way. What I ate today from Five Guys probably just added five of those pounds to my ass. Once I ran a brush through my hair and brushed my teeth I figured I was decent enough for dinner at Rose and Alice's. Making sure I had everything, I located my keys to the apartment and my ancient 1953 Chevy Pickup that I hated even thinking about driving. It was originally a Cherry Red color, but it has gradually faded to a pinkish something or another. At least it's not Pepto Pink. That would be worse, I think. It reminded me too much about Charlie and Jake, but there was no way around driving it if I wanted to get across town in time. It was 6:40 now and I had just enough time to get there if the damn truck didn't decide to give me issues. I hadn't driven it in so long it will be a miracle if it even started up at all.

I turned out all the lights and left the little light I had in the kitchen on so it wouldn't be pitch black when I got back tonight. I can't wait to get the hell out of this apartment. It takes me ten minutes to just lock the damn door up. I hurried down the stairs trying to make sure I didn't trip and kill myself that way and went out into the ever darkening night in search of my truck. We have a parking area behind the back of the apartments, but I never really felt safe about parking it out there. I usually tried to find one out in front on the road. At least there were street lamps out this way.

I hopped into the old, rusty beat up truck and put the key in the ignition. I said a silent prayer to someone above that it would start right up or at least within a few minutes. Luckily for me it fired right up with a rumbling that probably woke up the whole eastside of Seattle. I turned out of my spot and headed on down the road towards Rose and Alice's.

Thankfully I missed most of the lights which was completely odd and it only took me about 18 minutes from my apartment to being parked in front of their townhouse. I just loved it in this neighborhood. It seemed so calm and peaceful and the homes were mostly all beautiful brownstones. This would be a place that it would be great to be able to bring my boy back to. I really need to talk to Rosie about taking Jake back to court or something. I have to be able to show them that I can take care of myself and take care of my baby, too. Tired of the depressing thoughts and scared that they may drag me into that dark place again, I jumped out of the truck and made sure that no one was around to have heard the backfire when I parked and turned it off.

I took off towards Rose and Alice's and before I could reach the door, it swung open and almost off of its hinges. "Get your ass in here Bella!" was all I heard before a little 5 foot woman grabbed me and threw me around like a rag doll. I had to hand it to Alice, she was small but she was a force to be reckoned with. You'd never know that she was as strong as she was just by looking at her. After she finally let me go I took a look at my pixie friend and down the hall towards Rose. Something was up, I could just feel it. Rose, who was usually dressed to kill had on a pair of PINK boyfriend sweats and a t-shirt, with her never out of place hair pulled back into a messy bun, while Alice, the self proclaimed "Best Dressed" Kindergarten teacher who never wears anything frumpy was in a pair of short cotton shorts with an old Army t-shirt of mine that looked like it had seen better days. She was actually wearing something in her hair that made her look like Aunt Jemima on the syrup bottles. I had to give out a little giggle at the sight of these two. They obviously weren't exercising so they definitely had something up their sleeves that I was actually scared to be let in on.

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**Thanks again to all that have read. Review PLEASE! I like to know what you all are thinking even if you think it sucks! (Which, I hope you don't) We'll find out what those two sneaky girls are up to next week! Let's just say a girl's vaca is in order! Thanks again.**

**Jen**


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